The Dragonborn Epic, Vol 2: Civil War
by GamerDragon13
Summary: After Alduin's defeat, Belinda Scale has spent her winter taking a quiet vacation and riding her horse. After an inccident with the Thalmor, she becomes sick of the peace and decides to take a stand against them. Joining her is her companion Lucien Nightmist and the Nightingale Dione, who is out to show her people that hard work equals respect. Updates every Wednesday.
1. Chapter 1: Pears

_Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 20_ _th_ _of Sun's Dawn, 4E202_

Pears.

Pears were a sweet, juicy, decadent fruit with a grainy texture, whose flavor and sweetness was unmatched in the Multiverse. And you could do just about anything with them. Cut them up and dip them in chocolate with chopped nuts and a caramel drizzle, make them into wine or juice (no pulp thank you very much), puree them into a sauce, pickle them in honey and spices, make them into spiced pear pie with a scoop of ice cream on the side, or even just eat them as is. Pears were like that. So when Belinda Rosalyn Scale saw that the lovely Carlotta Valentia had two barrels at her market stall, she jumped for joy and that drew attention to them both.

Belinda was 5'6" tall with an hourglass figure. She was pale-skinned and had naturally magenta lips; had a pair of dazzling, silver-flecked, almond-shaped, amethyst eyes; and wore her long, jet-black hair in tightly woven braid. She wore a sleeveless, grey dress over black leggings and a black, long-sleeved shirt; black leather boots with silver buckles, a black apron, and a heavy, purple, velvet cloak trimmed in white wolf fur and had a silver dragon clasp with eyes of marquis-cut amethysts. And she simply adored pears.

"How much per pear?" she asked Carlotta.

The Cyrodiilic smiled. "Same fare as the apples," she answered.

"Three Septims a pear? A fair deal!" Belinda responded. "I'll take a whole barrel!"

Carlotta looked at her like she had grown an extra head. Had she heard Belinda Scale, the Dragonborn and Hero of Skyrim, Slayer of Alduin, and a brave woman who rode on the back of a Dragon say she wanted to spend approximately 300 gold on a barrel full of pears? It had cost Carlotta a hundred gold for a barrel of a hundred pears, so she had reasonably marked it up two Septims to pay for the fruit, making an extra hundred, and the remaining third paid the taxes. "You realize there's a hundred pears and that will run you up 300 gold, right?" Carlotta asked. As a merchant, she had to be good at math.

"Yep," Belinda answered. "It's been months since I've had the pleasure of enjoying pears." She reached into her purse and started counting by the tens.

Carlotta sighed and helped her. This was to be a long day, but at least she sold half of her pears and made good coin from it. Of course, she wondered: How did the Dragonborn plan to get a barrel full pears home?

* * *

 _Jorrvaskr_

It looked to be a normal day.

As far as the Nord warrior Sieghard Wolf-Son, Harbinger of the Companions and husband to the beautiful Aela the Hunter, was concerned, it was just that. A normal day, one of which he used to put his carpentry skills to good use. He was out on the back yard behind Jorrvaskr, sawing, sanding, and carving wood to make the beautiful crib for his soon-to-be-born pup. When he had returned to Nirn from Sovngarde months ago, he discovered his wife was two months along with a baby. No she was four months along, soon to be going on five months. This made Sieghard glad for his carpentry training in his youth.

He was a 6'4" man, all muscle with little to no fat in his body, though compared to his shield brother Farkas, he was still rather average. He had messy blond hair and a matching, almost-brown beard and thick brows; the beard had grown long enough for him to put into two thin braids and a thick one in between. His eyes were moonlit-silver, which seemed off at first unless you knew him well and he trusted you with the secret as to his true nature. He was a werewolf, one who could control his transformations as all members of the inner Circle of the Companions could. Not everyone in the Circle was a werewolf. Vignar Greymane wasn't. He had just been with the Companions for a long time and therefore earned the right to be in the Circle without the beast blood. Everyone else in the Circle had the beast blood, including Sieghard's wife Aela and their shield brothers Vilkas and Farkas, whom were twins.

Vilkas soon joined him out back, wearing his Wolf Armor. He was a couple inches shy of Sieghard, with the same silver eyes as he, though they were always tired with a hint of irritation. His hair was messy, chin-length, and pitch black, with stubble around his mouth. He was pure muscle, though he was a little narrower than Sieghard, shoulders not as wide.

"The crib looks good," he commented.

"Thanks," Sieghard responded. "As soon as it's assembled, I'll paint it. I'll need to talk to Belethor or Ysolda about getting quality paint." He thought about that. "Ysolda. She can find me quality paint for a good price."

"Aye," Vilkas agreed, helping to hold the crib steady. "Your woman is getting fussy and irritable. Barked at Ria about getting pears."

"Pears?" Sieghard asked. "Of all the things the woman could crave, it had to be something that you can seldom find in Skyrim, even if they are in season." He sighed. "At least she's warmed up to Bells."

"I saw Bells riding Allie yesterday," Vilkas pointed out.

"She really loves the horse," Sieghard chuckled.

"Sieghard!" came a cry. The two men turned to see Belinda running around the side of Jorrvaskr and over to them.

"What is it little sister?" Sieghard asked, standing to his full height.

"I did a dumb," Belinda answered. "I bought an entire barrel of pears!"

"How do you buy a barrel of pears?" Vilkas asked, trying not to laugh. Of course, he was genuinely curious as to how the young woman had bought so many pears.

"Easily when you save up 300 gold by doing bounties for the Jarl," Belinda answered. "Now I have a barrel of pears and no idea on how to get them home. I need some muscle."

Sieghard made a face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'd love to help you little sister, but I need to finish this crib," he pointed out. He turned to face Vilkas, asking, "Would you help her?"

Vilkas looked between the two. He then shrugged and answered, "Sure. I'll get Farkas."

"Thanks! I'll pay you both with five pears of your choice," Belinda responded. "Each."

"Interestingly enough, Aela is craving pears," Vilkas chuckled, heading inside Jorrvaskr. Belinda followed like a pup.

* * *

 _Breezehome_

The smell of pear blossoms filled Lucien Nightmist's sense of smell like the beloved memory that it was. He was 2,000 years younger, but still ancient. He lay between the roots of a pear tree, watching white, pink, and yellow petal drift in the soft wind in Amanisa Dragonspeaker's pear orchard. He looked up, opening bright blue eyes to the star-littered sky of perpetual twilight. The Crystal City, called Avalon by many, was beautiful, untarnished, and glittering, the realm was the center of the Multiverse, with magic coursing from the Wellspring of Magic to all corners, while magic came back to be recycled and renewed before flowing out again. The black lynx had called this place home for millennia since his bonded friend, sister, and mother, the Elven Planeswalker Amanisa found this place and raised a splendid city of crystal around the Wellspring.

It wasn't all crystal. The streets were beautiful with mosaics and there were areas of lush, emerald-green grass; a hedge maze of roses in every color, and this, the pear orchard where Lucien would often nap or read. Mages and magical animals passed by, checking the trees. They all hailed from so many places in the Multiverse. A good number of them were Planeswalkers, powerful and immortal like him. Others were simply mages. Calmed, Lucien shut his eyes again and inhaled the scent of pear blossoms. He himself, was a Planeswalker, but he seldom travelled there days. He merely wished to relax. For now, he had seen all there was to see. It would be a while before he ventured off again.

The front door to Breezehome, the house he occupied with the Planeswalker Belinda Scale, opened, dispelling the wonderful illusion of 2,000 years past. He looked up from the fireplace, looking to see Belinda enter her home. Vilkas and Farkas followed, the latter ducking his head so he wouldn't hit his head on the doorframe. Between them, they carried a barrel. Lucien took a sniff. Pears. He was almost in disbelief, but stood from his large pillow and went over to where the large Nords set the barrel down, waving his unusually long and fluffy tail almost happily. He hadn't had pears in a while.

"Do you like pears, Lucien?" Belinda asked her friend and housemate. She opened the barrel and the twins eating picked out five pears and left.

"Very much so!" the lynx replied. "Amanisa used to have a fantastic pear orchard!" He tended to reminisce about his lost and forgotten home, the Crystal City.

"Well, Carlotta got a ship of a hundred pears from Southern Cyrodiil," Belinda pointed out. "West Weald Pears no doubt! They have the second best pears in all Tamriel. Only better pears are found in Valenwood and those Bosmer are very antsy about their Greenpact."

"Wood Elves typically are," Lucien agreed.

"Eh." Belinda took a few pears and peeled and sliced them.

"You going to make a sauce with some?" Lucien asked.

"Well, we have a hundred pears," Belinda answered. "We can do just about anything with them! I'm thinking pear spiced pie, pear juice and give the pulp to the farmers to nourish their grounds, keep a few seeds to grow into trees, and maybe even a pear harvest cake! Oh, we should store some pears slices in a jar with honey and cinnamon until next year!"

"Oh by Kynareth's earthly knickers, yes!" Lucien cheered. Belinda set down a bowl of sliced pears and Lucien ate them happily. His tail swished in joy. "Ah! The West Weald has excellent pears!"

"We should visit the West Weald one of this days," Belinda pointed out. "The roads into Cyrodiil are safe to travel again." She sliced up more pears, this time for her beautiful horse Queen Alfsigr, nicknamed Allie for short. She intended to go riding today and figured she'd love pears. "So, what were you thinking about?" she asked Lucien.

"The Crystal City," Lucien answered. "Amanisa loved pears, as I'm sure you know. She had a pear orchard there. I used to spend my time there, napping or reading under blossoming trees."

"I wish I could go there and see it," Belinda sighed. "It just sounds so beautiful."

"I wish I could take you there," Lucien muttered. "Alas, it is lost."

Belinda nodded. Lucien was over 10,000 years old, and had seen civilizations rise and fall, planes be born and then turn to nothing. He, like so many old Planeswalkers, had caused cataclysms, started wars, had been in love many times, and had taken on shapes beside that of the one he was born to. But things were different now. Had been for over a hundred years. The loss of Amanisa and the Crystal City had hit him the hardest though. Amanisa had been his dearest friend, a sister, a mother, and teacher. She had shown him the world and the Multiverse. She died a thousand years ago of her own volition to protect secrets from a former student of hers: A Planeswalker named Nathiel.

Nathiel had tried to kill Belinda multiple times last year and had tried to deter her path as the Dragonborn. He thankfully failed each time, due to last minute rescues and Belinda's own stubbornness. She had been poisoned by the man, and despite her injuries and the poison coursing through her, she had managed to drag herself out. To her good fortune, Lucien came in that time with an antidote for the poison in her, almost like he knew she'd need it.

"Will you be riding?" Lucien asked, stealing Belinda's attention from her thoughts.

Belinda looked to him, his blue eyes fixed on her. "Yes," she answered.

Lucien nodded. "Well, be careful," he told her. "My scouts have informed me that the Stormcloaks and Imperials have picked up where they left off. They're fighting again." He turned back to the fire and his own thoughts, grumbling about how stupid this civil war was.

Belinda wrapped up the pears she sliced, grabbed her riding gloves, and went down to the stables. The air of late winter was cold and wet. At least it wasn't hot and wet, but that was a matter one did not need to worry about in Skyrim. It was slick on the roads, so Belinda decided to ride out in the plains. Sure, the ground was soft and covered in snow, but Queen Alfsigr was a Skyrim Warhorse, a breed meant for the rugged, wintry terrain of Skyrim. She could easily plow through snow.

"G'day Miss Scale," greeted the stable-master, a Nord named Skulvar Sable-Hilt. He was an average sized Nord, though he leaned toward the shorter end of the spectrum, with tan skin, light blue eyes, and brown hair and a thick, drooping mustache. He wore thick boots, dirty white pants, brown leather gloves, and a green tunic over and dirt beige shirts. He carried a small, one-handed axe of iron with horses cave on the blade and a pine handle – a family heirloom, no doubt.

"Good afternoon, Skulvar," Belinda responded.

"I had a feeling you were going to be riding today," Skulvar said. "So, she's all saddled up and ready to go for you."

"Thanks, but you didn't need to do that," Belinda chuckled.

"She's eager to go running," Skulvar pointed out. "What's your intended route today, if I may ask?" he questioned.

"I think I'll ride around the western wall and ride around the plains by the northern watchtower," Belinda answered. "No intentions to ride too far out."

Skulvar nodded. "Just be careful around the northern wall of Whiterun," he pointed out. "Guards suspect Skooma dealers 'round there."

"Damn; I should've made sure to ask before heading out," Belinda muttered. "Now I have to head back up to the city and get my sword." It was a 20 minute walk back up into Whiterun, and then she could easily climb down. _Ugh, why did it have to be built on a hill_ _ **and**_ _have convoluted path up to the gates?_ She asked herself in annoyance.

"I have a spare sword if you'd like to barrow it," Skulvar offered.

"That would be wonderful, thank you!" Belinda responded.

Skulvar fetched the sword from his house. It was steel blade with a horse head carved of bone for the pommel. Another family heirloom, perhaps?

"It has nothing on Dragonbane, but I imagine it'll serve just fine against a few bandits," he chuckled.

Belinda accepted the weapon. "I'll be sure to return it safely," she assured the stable-master. Once the sword was secured at her side, she pulled herself into Allie's saddle and adjusted her cloak and dress. "I'll see you in a few hours."

Skulvar nodded, watching Belinda ride off.

* * *

 _The North Plains_

Belinda had given the northern wall of Whiterun a wide breath. She didn't want to damage the sword Skulvar lent her on petty Skooma addicts and dealers. At the Northern Watchtower, she dismounted to give Allie a break and to feed her the treat she brought. Allie gobbled up the pears excitedly. She whinnied in delight, making Belinda smile.

"MOVE!" she heard someone shout. It was male voice with a Summerset accent. Thalmor.

Belinda looked to the road where three Altmer led a Nord man in rags. Two Altmer wore the standard armor of the Aldmeri Dominion, a combination of steel, moonstone, and gold. They carried teardrop shaped shields bearing the insignia of the Aldmeri Dominion and standard issued swords, both of which matched their boring armor. The third Altmer wore black robes of material that appeared to be leather. The robes were trimmed in gold thread. The sign of a powerful mage and Justiciar. The warriors of the group brought up the rear of the group while the Justiciar pulled on a chain that connected to the manacles around the Nord man's wrists. Just another nameless man, looking pretty standard. One of the warriors shocked him with a small lightning bolt.

 _Treaty or no, they can't treat people like this,_ Belinda thought bitterly. She should do something. She would be no better than these Thalmor _**TWATS**_ if she did nothing. She went over to the Justiciar and stood in his path, looking angry, fierce, and defiant. She raised her chin at him, making sure her glare was a judgmental one.

"Stand aside girl," the Justiciar ordered.

"Why should I?" Belinda responded, hoping she sounded condescending. "You have plenty of room on the road to go around. Or are you afraid of soiling your precious robes?"

"You are interfering with official Thalmor business!" the Justiciar snapped.

"Really? So tormenting some random Nord is official Thalmor business?" Belinda asked. "Well, now it's become my business."

"I'm warning you-."

Belinda spat in his face. Not her first idea, and the Thalmor looked thoroughly disgusted. "Oh, what's the matter?" she chided, giving a pouty lip and an even more condescending for. "Did I get hooman spit on your pwecious Elven face?" She smirked then. "Of course, your face could do with a fine grounding in some mud."

That's when the Thalmor attacked.

"Three on one, boys? That's hardly fair," Belinda giggled, dodging an attack. She wanted to get them away from the Nord. The warriors had their sword drawn, swords at the ready, and the Justiciar conjured a Daedric sword. Belinda drew Skulvar's sword while she reached into the surrounding lands to power her magic. Sword in one hand, she brought a spell of lightning to the other. She pushed her will outward, reaching far. Not far enough. She'd never be able to reach Dione's presence. She'd have to make do without. Of course, arcane lightning and a steel sword wasn't all she had at her disposal. She was the Dragonborn, and once she had the Nord out of her range of attack, she Shouted.

"Fo-KRAH-DIIN!"


	2. Chapter 2: Challenge Accepted

_Dawnstar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 20_ _th_ _of Sun's Dawn, 4E202_

Nathiel sat down for what felt like the first time in weeks. To be perfectly honest though, after his failure to stop Belinda Scale, the Half-Elf had returned to the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary outside Dawnstar in the Pale Hold. Since then, the Night Mother kept him and every assassin at his disposal busy with several contracts, and while Cicero was still the Keeper, the second most important role in the Dark Brotherhood, even he was subject to being sent out. So the fact that Nathiel hadn't sat down for to rest his feet in a while for not surprising.

The assassin looked around the Windpeak Inn, where the locals were sitting down to dinner and drinks. They were most miners and dock workers and even Frida the alchemist and local healer. Non-locals were sailors who started drinking ale and singing "Sweet Lady of Wayrest." The waitress and tavern bard, Karita had to swat a few men to keep their hands off her. Finally, she came to Nathiel in his shadowy corner. She always assumed he was half-Dunmer, half-Bosmer. If he had been born there, that may have been the truth. It was a technical truth, if anything.

Nathiel was a Planeswalker, born and raised in Middle Earth among the few elves that remained there. Though, they were a race of Half-Elves who had settled in Angmar, where red eyes developed as a racial trait. Alas, he could never tell anyone the truth. The Planesbound could never know the truth. It would drive them mad, realizing how small they really were. Though, once, in a fit of sadistic glee, he had told someone the cold, dark truth of reality and watched their pitiful mind tear apart at the seams.

"What can I get you today, Nathiel?" Karita asked.

"Clam chowder with a glass of red wine," Nathiel answered.

The young Nord woman nodded and went off to the counter to inform her father, leaving Nathiel alone again. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and pulling out a pipe. It was one Amanisa had given him. It was carved from oak and painted violet with a glossy finish and the little cup at the end had tiny dragons carved into it and filled with silver enamel. He remembered the day he received it as a gift. Amanisa had taken him as a personal student, so he had resided in the palace with her. He shoved his favored mixture of tobacco and herbs into the cup and struck a match to light it. He inhaled and relaxed, eyes closing as he exhaled. He felt his tense body unwinding with each inhale of his pipe. Though, he did not hear the moving of a chair to his immediate left.

"You know smoking is bad for you, right?" asked a child's voice.

Nathiel opened his left eye, seeing a Breton girl of 10 beside him. He almost laughed at the notion. Babette Valtieri was small and paler than most Bretons, with medium brown hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders and red eyes. She was a Vampire, and over 300 years old. She had long since taken the surname of her deceased sire, Vicente Valtieri, and followed in his footsteps as an assassin. Her childlike appearance made her contracts very easy to accomplish, for who would eve suspect a small, innocent child?

"Every time I hear someone say that, I would blow smoke in their face," Nathiel pointed out, shutting his eye again. "Honestly, pretend I give a damn. You're the one who licks her fingers after putting poisonous plants in her potion. So you're really one to talk."

"I'm a vampire."

"And I'm a Planeswalker."

"That's become irrelevant."

"Bite me."

"I could."

"You won't."

"Try me."

Karita returned, setting a glass of wine down in front of Nathiel before turning to Babette. "Can I get you anything, sweetie?" she asked.

"Salmon steak, steamed veggies, a slice of buttered bread, snowberry juice, and no garlic," Babette answered. Karita nodded and walked off again. Babette turned back to Nathiel and asked, "Contracts were so much easier when the Night Mother was in Cyrodiil."

"Well, Dear Old Mother can't stay in her old tomb in Cyrodiil in anymore now, can she?" Nathiel grumbled. He inhaled another puff of smoke and sighed. "We have much work to do to rebuild what was lost. We have to assemble the Black Hand, find proper Silencers, reopen old Sanctuaries, extend our reach back into the other provinces, and do all of this without getting attacked by dragons."

"Work, work, work, all the time," Babette gigged as Karita brought her juice. "Thank you," Babette told her, the Nord nodding in response before walking off again.

"And I still have to kill the Dragonborn," Nathiel grumbled.

"Well, with Alduin dead, there's really nothing stopping you anymore from doing it," Babette pointed out. "She's served her purpose and completed the prophecy. The world is no long in danger and she can die now."

"I never cared about this plane," Nathiel growled. "It's just another world and is irrelevant."

"Then why talk about rebuilding the Dark Brotherhood?" Babette asked.

"Because aside from killing the Dragonborn, I have nothing else better to do," Nathiel answered.

Karita brought them their food and walked off again.

"What about your demon master?" Babette questioned.

"I don't want to deal with him until the Dragonborn is dead," Nathiel replied. "Going back to him without her head would not end very well, and since the Mending, I haven't the power to destroy him. I am at a severe disadvantage." As he thought about Belinda, his mind wandered off to the thought of pears. He hadn't had pears in 1,500 years, not since Amanisa betrayed him and destroyed his research. He had been so close, and she ruined everything! _Why am I thinking about pears?_ Nathiel asked himself. "I hate pears," he mumbled.

"What was that?" Babette asked.

"Nothing, Babette; nothing at all…"

* * *

 _Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 23_ _rd_ _of Sun's Dawn, 4E202_

Belinda returned Skulvar's sword and went to change into her cotton tunic and black leggings, her black leather vest with purple scale mail on the sides and leather scaled pauldrons; black, knee-high boots with silver buckles and steel caps over the toes; black, fingerless gloves with steel, diamond-shaped caps over the knuckles and steels plates on the outer arms that had dragons carved in them and filled with purple enamel; and silver dragon pendant clutching an amethyst. She packed lightly with a few changes in clothes and some pears, jerky, and dried fruits. She put Dragonbane on her belt, pulled her cloak back on, and looked at herself through Lucien's eyes. She looked good. Damn good.

Lucien put on his travel bags, which were made of worn, weather brown leather and contained books, scrolls, and a few personal items. He brought some pears with him. He then donned his new teal velvet cloak with a leaf-shaped clasp from the ancient woods of Lothlorien, back when the light elves still roamed there. He used telekinesis to pull up the heart-shaped hood, poking his ears through the slits. Next, he put on his silver bracers with the diamond-shaped blue aventurine cabochons in the middle.

"Ready to go?" Belinda asked.

"More than ready, Belinda," Lucien answered, stretching.

Belinda rode all weekend to reach Windhelm, Lucien racing beside them and stopping to rest for six hours between midnight and dawn. She slowed Allie to eat brief meals of pears. Her decision to help people worship freely was pushing her to Windhelm. She might have gone to Solitude to help the empire, but she was reluctant to help the people who nearly chopped her head off. So, off to Windhelm!

Windhelm itself was a large, ancient city sitting at the foot of mountains to the north and above a river. It had the second largest port in Skyrim and the second most important. The only way to enter the city is to cross the ancient stone bridge that spanned half a mile. Belinda dismounted Allie and handed the reins to a stable hand. As she paid him, she spotted the dusty-white stallion already in the stalls. The famed stallion Frost, prized and valued across Skyrim as the ideal breeding horse for his strength, stamina, and speed. He was a beautiful sight to behold with snow-white snow with pale grey specks clustered alone his spine and dispersing along his body to look like snow. Frost's presence meant one thing: Dione. Belinda and Lucien exchanged knowing smiles and hurried into the city. They looked around for any sign of the woman. She stood out among the Dunmer, Dark Elves.

"Do you see her?" Belinda asked.

"No, I don't," Lucien answered. "Maybe we should check the New Gnisis Cornerclub? She loves Sujamma, so maybe she's there?"

Belinda nodded and they descended into the Grey Quarter, formerly known as the Snow Quarter. It was dark, dreary slum with the tattered banners of House Hlaalu hanging up. Belinda was seriously doubting Dione would want to be here since she was, by blood, a member of House Indoril. Would it have really mattered if she loved Sujamma or not. Not to mention the unpleasant glares Belinda herself was getting. She respected the Dunmer people, but she had only been to Windhelm once before and saw that the Dunmer weren't treated well here. In Riften, things were different. The Dunmer people, even the Thieves except for one Belinda had met in the Ragged Flagon, were polite and hard-working people. These people just _glared_ at her.

" _Coming down here may have been a mistake,"_ she thought-spoke to Lucien.

" _Agreed,"_ Lucien responded. He chose to read the mind of a glaring Dark Elf, hearing: _Damn Nord filth._ He opened his minds to the other Dunmer, hearing slurs and insults toward Belinda. They all assumed she was just a short Nord.

" _Lucien, get us out of here,"_ Belinda pleaded.

"Belinda!" called a female voice. Everyone turned to see what passed for a typical Dunmer woman. She was of average height with a slim, lithe body accustomed to acrobatics and climbing with lean arms. Her skin was grey-blue, soft and with flushes of violet that matched her lilac eyes. Her short hair was white as snow with natural silver highlights. Most of the Dunmer present had longer ears ending in points, but this Dunmer's were short and more rounded, though still pointed. This was Dione Desidenius, or Dione Nightingale as she was more widely known. Bard, Archmage, Thieves Guild Master, and Nightingale of Nocturnal; all titles she had earned during her own journey across Skyrim. She was also half-Dunmer, half-Cyrodiilic.

"Dione! Thank Talos!" Belinda exclaimed, she and Lucien running up to their friend. Dione led them out of the Grey Quarter. Once in the light, Belinda saw her wearing a Stormcloak soldier uniform: Iron scale mail worn under a storm-blue wrap and black leather belts and fur boots and matching gloves. "You joined the Stormcloaks?" Belinda asked.

"That obvious, huh?" Dione responded. "Yeah. I figured: I hate the Thalmor as much as any Nord and I'd get some real respect around here. Most of my fellow Dunmer here in Windhelm seem to disagree. I guess they don't know House Redoran's opinions on the empire. But most of the Dunmer here are Hlaalu, which was disgraced after the Red Year."

"Yeah, and I'm kinda liking the Dunmer in Riften more," Belinda muttered. "They don't scare me."

Dione sighed. "What were you doing down there anyway?" she asked.

"We figured you'd be at the New Gnisis Cornerclub because they sell Sujamma," Belinda answered, "and we know you love your Sujamma."

"That's…A really valid answer," Dione muttered, looking at the ground. "But yeah, don't go looking for me down there. I don't go down there unless it's for a 'job.' Even though, I'm very careful. And if I want Sujamma, I just go back to Riften. Mead will do for now." She looked up at her friends. "How did you know I was here?"

"We saw Frost in the stables," Lucien answered.

"And why are you here?" Dione asked.

"To join the Stormcloaks," Belinda answered.

"Reason?"

"I hate the Thalmor."

"Ulfric and Galmar are gonna love you then," Dione chuckled. She led them to the Palace of Kings, which towered over all the other buildings in the city. It stood directly north of the city gates, with tall, iron-bound doors. The interior was much warmer, with a ceiling that giants would approve of and chandeliers of iron, antlers, and goat horn, all hanging from study chains of steel. There was a long, pine table running half the length of the stone hall, adorned with a storm-blue runner, silver candlesticks, and platters of fruits, meats, and fish. Some Stormcloak soldiers sat here, eating and drinking and talking about skirmishes they've had with the imperial soldiers. The insignia of Eastmarch, the symbol of the Stormcloak Rebellion, was woven on almost every tapestry and banner in pale yellow thread on a storm-blue cloth. Braziers were burning, bringing warmth to the hall and Ulfric Stormcloak himself sat on his throne on a rise of stairs. Ulfric and his housecarl and right-hand man Galmar Stonefist were talking.

"Good afternoon gentlemen," Dione greeted.

"Ah, Nightingale," Ulfric mumbled. Then his eyes fell on Belinda. "Dragonborn?"

"Belinda Scale, Jarl," Belinda pointed out. "I hear you're looking for capable warriors and I hate Thalmor. I want in."

"Blunt and straight to the point as always, I see," Ulfric commented.

"And lacking manners," Galmar added, voice rough.

"Considering the Nord stereotype is indeed lacking manners, can it beefcake," Belinda replied.

Dione covered her mouth and some of the soldiers snickered and chuckled. Ulfric coughed, trying not to laugh.

"Why you little-."

"Calm, Galmar," Ulfric ordered, failing at a smile.

"Look, you need soldiers and I'm one of the best ones you can get," Belinda pointed out. "I can wield a sword, I can do arcane spells, I know a thing or two about archery, I've been learning how to ride all winter _in the middle of winter_ mind you, and I can Shout. If that doesn't scream 'useful soldier' to you, I don't know what will."

"It's true," Dione pointed out. "Plus, she can command a dragon, and I know Galmar has been interested in getting the aid of a dragon."

"I don't own Odahviing, Dione," Belinda corrected. "He does as he wishes within limits. He only agreed to help me if I call on him."

"Hmm, either way…" Ulfric started. He went into deep thought. "Tell me, Dragonborn, what Shouts can you use?" he asked.

"Uh, want the list?" Belinda responded. It would have been easier for him to ask what Shouts she didn't know.

"I challenge you," Ulfric offered, rising from his throne. He grabbed the steel long sword that was at his side. It shone and had a razor sharp edge. It was either brand new or was well-cared for.

"Challenge accepted," Belinda replied with a smile. She drew Dragonbane. It was a long, slightly curved blade of Elven steel and silver. However, it was not of this plane. It was a forged 10,000 years ago in the great forges of Rivendell by Amanisa Dragonspeaker for her battle against the dragon Draigoch. It shone red when dragons were near and blue for Goblins and Orcs (on this plane, anything associated with Malacath made it shine blue). Her dragon blood gave the beautiful blade a slight red tint. Ulfric eyed the blade wearily, thinking it enchanted. That wasn't completely false, of course. Belinda rolled her eyes. "It's a weapon meant to deal great harm to dragons and children of Malacath. To you, however, it's just a sword."

"Looks to be of elf make," Galmar pointed out.

"I won't deny that it's an elven sword, but it's painfully foreign even to the elves of Tamriel," Belinda stated. "It predates modern history. Also, no Shouts. We don't want to risk someone getting injured. Now…" She took a fighting stance. "Shall we begin?"

Ulfric nodded. He was right-handed, and noted that Belinda was left-handed. Unique. Her fighting style would be drastically different. They circled each other. Ulfric was good warrior with years more experience than the child before him. No doubt she knew that. He was also larger, but slower. This girl couldn't be more than 17, 18 at the oldest. She was young and quick on her feet, though she clearly lacked strength. Ulfric would need to improvise his lack of speed with his endurance. Given that she was the Dragonborn though, she would likely endure hard blows as well.

He struck first, swinging the flat of his blade as swiftly as he would if he swinging the edge forward. Belinda dropped, ducking under the swing and tackling him headfirst into his chest. She shoved him back, proving to be stronger than she looked. She stumbled back, bringing her sword up to defend. Was her plan to wear him down? She was in for a long wait if that were the case. She moved around, keeping him in her sight. He noted that she kept her left elbow pointed outward and leaned toward the left. Watching her carefully, he realized it was a more elven style of combat she was using. Her right foot pointed right in the event she would need to move in that direction.

"You're using an Altmeri style," he commented.

"Truly? Feels more Wood Elfie to me," Belinda responded.

She had no shield, but the tip of her blade cover her right flank rather well. This left her right hand free. The muscles in her left leg were tense. If she wasn't careful, the muscles could knot up upon releasing the tension and she'd be down. Everyone was watching them, watching to see who moved first. Finally, she made a move. She came at him, right arm first. She had actually exposed herself to injury. Ulfric did the same, swinging back for a powerful frontal blow. But as he started swinging, she stepped mid-sprint and spun in a half circle to the left and brought her blade up to his left with a back-handed swing. His attack missed and his blade struck the ground. She had practiced control and brought her blade to a halt barely an inch from his neck.

"Impressive," Ulfric commented.

"Elven combat has its merits, even risky moves like that," Belinda pointed out. "I had to rely on you to make an equally dangerous move, so this tactic could have gone horribly wrong for me, especially if I lacked proper contro-." She fell, dropping her sword and clutching her calf. She clenched her teeth and let out a muffled whine. Dione and Lucien went to her. Her face scrunched up to keep from crying out.

"Knotted muscle?" Ulfric asked, relaxing and sheathing his sword. He knelt beside the Dragonborn.

Belinda nodded, not trusting her voice. She let out a pained gasp and took deep breaths. "That usually happens when I'm either half asleep or waking up."

Ulfric and Dione helped her sit up. "I was worried the muscles in your left leg were too tense," the former pointed out.

Belinda nodded. "I'll be okay in a moment," she muttered, taking another deep breath.

"Right; in the meantime…"

"Hm?"

"Welcome to the Stormcloaks."

Belinda smirked.


	3. Chapter 3: The Jagged Crown

_Solitude, Haafingar Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 25_ _th_ _of Sun's Dawn, 4E202_

He was only doing it out of spite.

Nathiel could care less about the empire or the legion stationed in Skyrim, but when he heard from an assassin under his command that Belinda, Lucien, and Dione had thrown their lot in with the Stormcloaks, he decided to join the legion to deal with them. Why face three powerful Planeswalkers, even post-Mending ones, alone, when he could face them with an army? It made the most sense. So, here he was in Solitude, on his way to Castle Dour where he would speak with General Tullius and his right-hand, Legate Rikke.

"Tell me again why we're wasting time on this?" Tullius asked the legate.

"It's to help Jarl Elisif legitimize her claim," Rikke answered.

"Will it really?" Tullius groaned, bored. He was not impressed or interested in Skyrim and its honored traditions, let alone some old dusty crown of legend. He would be easy to manipulate and control with time and effort as long as their goals aligned. Once he realized the Dragonborn had sided with the Stormcloaks, he would lose faith quickly. How could his army stand against the Dragonborn? With the Dragonborn, the empire didn't stand a chance. But if Nathiel got close enough to her…

"Ahem!" he coughed, catching their attention. Tullius and Rikke turned to look at him. "I have it on good authority that the Jagged Crown is located in the Nordic ruin of Korvanjund."

"How do you even-?" Rikke started asking.

"An old story," Nathiel answered. He pushed himself off the doorframe. "Now, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you folks. The Dragonborn has thrown her lot in with the Stormcloaks. I'm here to help."

* * *

 _Windhelm, Eastmarch  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 28_ _th_ _of Sun's Dawn, 4E202_

"Tell me again why we're wasting time and dwindling resources chasing a legend?" Ulfric asked two days later as Belinda and Dione were sitting down at the long table with their fellow Stormcloaks. Ralof was there, and he and Belinda were playing catchup on the last six months. That's when Ulfric and Galmar entered, talking about an artifact named the Jagged Crown. It caught the three's attention. Lucien was busy napping by a brazier to notice or care. "We don't even know it exits," Ulfric added irritably. Apparently, they he and Galmar had been talking about the Jagged Crown to some extent and the former believed it to be a waste of time and resources.

"The Jarls are upset," Galmar responded while Ulfric sat on his throne. "They don't all support you."

"Damn the Jarls," Ulfric grumbled.

"They demand the Moot," Galmar pointed out.

"And damn the Moot!" Ulfric barked, glaring. "We should risk letting those milkdrinkers put Thorryg's woman on the throne?! She'll hand Skyrim over to the Dominion on a silver plate!"

"All the more reason then!" Galmar responded. "The crown would legitimize your claims."

"A crown doesn't make a king," Ulfric stated, seeming to calm down.

"No, but this one-."

"If it even exist."

"It exists!" Galmar defended. "And it'll be the symbol of the righteousness of our cause. Think about it! The Jagged Crown!" His eyes lit up in excitement. Belinda stifled a chuckle. "It heralds back to a time before Jarls and Moots. Back to a time when a king was a king because his enemies fell before him and his people rose because they loved him. Skyrim needs that king. You will be that king, Ulfric. You must be!"

Ulfric groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're certain you've found it?" he asked.

"When have I ever been false with you?" Galmar responded.

"I'll go," Belinda reported.

"I'll need more than just you, Dragonborn," Galmar pointed out.

"I'm coming too." Dione stood.

"Me too!" Ralof announced, tripping over the bench as he got up. Everyone laughed. A few others volunteered and stood also. Two of them helped Ralof up.

"Looks like I have my volunteers," Galmar chuckled.

"Lucien! Wake up!" Belinda barked. "We're going to find the Jagged Crown!"

Lucien yawned. "That's nice," he mumbled.

* * *

 _Korvanjund, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 2_ _nd_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

It still snowed dry, dusty snow in the northeastern half of Skyrim, particularly northern Eastmarch, the Pale, and Winterhold. Galmar, Belinda, Dione, Lucien, Ralof, and the other volunteers rode their horses through to a small clearing north of Korvanjund. Upon arrival, they saw dark smoke, which met wet wood was being burned. Lucien and Galmar snuck ahead to investigate, leaving the others behind to set up a camp. A space was cleared in the snow and layered with stones, upon which dry wood was placed with dried pine needles, leaves, grass, and twigs. They got a fire going and everyone huddled around for warmth. Galmar and Lucien returned after an hour.

"Damn Imperials," Galmar grunted.

"What's wrong?" Belinda asked, rising. She and the others moved aside for Galmar and Lucien could warm themselves.

"The Imperials are here ahead of us," Galmar answered. "A dozen and a half patrolling the exterior ruins. Your cat reported even more inside."

"How did they find out the crown was here?" Ralof asked.

"I have a hunch," Lucien answered. "A hunch named Nathiel."

"Oh, great, he's back?" Belinda groaned.

"Friend of yours?" Galmar asked.

"Hardly. I'll show you what he did to my ankle later," Belinda answered. "If that bastard has thrown his lot in with the Imperials, then I fear it's my fault. He's got a vendetta against me. Something about what a…Ancestor of mine did to him. Supposed, she destroyed his research and now hates my family's guts."

"And then some," Lucien added. "We have to be extra careful in there. He's likely set up plenty of traps." He started pacing. "I don't like this. I don't like this one little bit. That Grade A ass is working with the Imperials."

"Ten gold he would have joined the Stormcloaks if I had joined the Imperials," Belinda muttered.

"I'll take that bet," Dione responded. "Do you feel like asking him?" she asked.

"I just might."

After stomping out the fire and hitching the horses to low-hanging branches, the Stormcloaks stormed the exterior ruin. They were outnumbered, but Belinda charged in first, Shouting fire on some of the men on the ground. Lucien flanked from behind, using invisibility and his natural stealth abilities to cloak his presence. He ripped two men apart. Dione had climbed a tree, casting a spell of invisibility on herself. Once on a strong branch, she let her illusion drop and drew the Nightingale bow, a beautiful and intricate weapon. She drew an ebony arrow and fire swiftly into a man, dropping him in a hit. The other Stormcloaks charged in with axes and swords after Belinda's Shout.

The Dragonborn drew Dragonbane and leapt into the fray. She cut two men down with ease and ran a third man through. _Why are all of these legionnaires men?_ Belinda thought. She saw no woman among the bodies of soldiers. _Maybe they're inside?_ She looked at her fellow Stormcloaks as the fight died down. Aside from her and Dione, three of them were women. At first, it seemed like a weird observation. They entered the ruins.

They were cold and damp with the heavy scent of dust and death all around. Nothing new there. Those that had entered the ruins all crouched behind a fallen pillar and looked over into the chamber ahead. Lucien's tilted his ears and listened. His eyes gave a slight glow as he looked into the chamber. He counted how many were in the immediate area, listening. Belinda gestured for everyone to be still so Lucien could listen.

"Well?" she asked him.

"Five," Lucien informed. "All male, standing over five feet and six inches. Four Cyrodiilics, one Nord. One of them is an archer. Rest have Imperial Legion swords. Lighter armor on the Cyrodiilics and the Nord has heavy steel."

"Impressive," Galmar stated. "Dead serious, I'm impressed."

"How far back is the archer?" Dione asked, pulling an arrow from her quiver. She notched it to the bowstring.

"Far back, toward the entry way to the rest of the ruins," Lucien answered.

Dione snuck head, pressing herself to the wall beside the entryway. Lucien connected to her mind and showed her where he heard and smelt each soldier. She took a deep breath and swept into the chamber, ducking behind fallen architecture to avoid being spotted. Soon, she had the archer in her sights and aimed her bow at him. She had his head in her sight, and the fool wasn't wearing a helm. She released her breath and arrow, watching it fly into the Cyrodiilic's head. He collapsed, dead, and the sound got the attention of the other soldiers. They went up to the body and that's when the other Stormcloaks struck. Belinda, Galmar, and Ralof were at the forefront. The skirmish was short, not a lot of blood. They then proceeded to the next chamber, pausing at the next entryway.

"This feels like an ambush," Galmar grunted.

Lucien listened in. "It is," he pointed out. He turned, scanning the chamber they were in. His tailed swished gently. He spotted an alternate way into the next chamber. "Dione, Belinda, up there."

Dione and Belinda nodded and went up. The alternate route led them to a narrow overpass above the legionnaires. They overheard them talking, about how they didn't like this, how they were nervous. The second soldier told him to just shut up and be patient. Belinda took out a bow and arrow, and both women aimed at the soldiers. The other soldiers focused then on them and that allowed Galmar to lead the Stormcloaks in and attacked those that remained. It was like that for a while, until they reached the halls, where they found the bodies of both legionnaires and Draugr. That made Grete paused, gagging as her hazel eyes went wide.

"Oooh, what is that?" she asked, going paler than before. She pushed some of her copper hair away from her face.

"What? Never seen a Draugr before?" Galmar asked.

"No, and I'm not better for seeing one now," Grete answered.

Belinda recognized Grete. Well, another version of her, on Innistrad. She had met the redhead by accident, while riding away from some werewolves. Belinda was armed only with a branch and no fire magic. Grete and a few others on horses had made a timely rescue. This Grete on Nirn were clearly a little weaker-stomached than her Innistradi counterpart, but that was a given. The Grete on Innistrad lived in a horror-stricken world of ravenous werewolves, hedonistic vampires, ghouls, undead, and necroalchemists stitching undead Frankenstein monsters. While such things existed on Nirn and there were orders dedicated to slaying them, they were thankfully not as prevalent, much like Angels.

"You'll be fine Grete," Belinda assured. "They die like everything else, granted these die twice."

"You sure?" Grete asked.

"Positive; just stab them enough," Belinda answered.

She then led the way to the ancient puzzle door. One of the dead legionnaires had the claw key. She lined up the symbols and opened the door. They were not far from King Borgas now. Once there, they saw the ancient king sitting on his throne, the crown on his head. There were stone coffins and old bookcases with ruined books lining the shelves. The room was dark, so, everyone lit a torch. Belinda and Dione knowingly drew their swords. The men lit the dusty old braziers, which illuminated the room, and King Borgas, long dead and seated on his throne, the Jagged Crown upon his head. One of the Stormcloaks, a man named Jaden, walked over.

"Galmar, is this the-?" He never finished his sentence, as King Borgas ran the young Stormcloak through with a curved, ebony blade. Jaden choked and gasped, gurgling blood. Belinda then heard it, the uttering of Unrelenting Force.

"Everyone get out of the way!" she shouted.

"-RO-DAH!" King Borgas Shouted, sending Jaden's body flying into the wall. Belinda winced, hearing the body break against the ancient stone. She turned then to Borgas, his eye sockets glowing blue. The flames on the torches and in the braziers turned blue, making Lucien tense. The air was cold, and more Draugr burst from their coffins.

There was a long fight. Thankfully, Galmar was a seasoned fighter, taking Borgas head on while the others contended with the four, lesser Draugr. Lucien aided Grete against one while Ralof, Belinda, and Dione each took one on. Grete's side was cut badly, but she would live. She took a defensive position, her opponent wailing on her. Thankfully, she proved good and fast with a shield. Lucien gave her…Encouragement. He reached into the recesses of her mind, pulled dreams of her other life, her life on Innistrad, and planted them on the forefront. She was a hero, a warrior respected far in wide. She slew monsters unlike any had ever seen in Skyrim. With it came memories of her valiant skills. Grete then pushed forward, skillfully swinging her sword. She decapitated the Draugr shortly after the burst of courage.

Ralof, Belinda, and Dione each dispatched the opponents shortly after. Dione did so in a flourish of dance and acrobatics, dual-wielding the Nightingale Blade and an ebony scimitar. Her Draugr was very slow, armed with a steel claymore. She was able to slice its arms off, her blades coming up below on the sides and cutting the arms off at the shoulder. She then waved her arms to the left, not tilting the blades even a little, and swung in a right, downward angle to cut the Draugr's head off and cut its upper torso in half.

Belinda was using her sword and staff to fight. She jabbed the bottom end of her staff against its chest and drove him to the ground. The staff with through, making the sound of ripping fabric and crunching bone. She impaled its head with Dragonbane.

Where Dione worked her whole life to master archery, dual-wielding swords, and her magic, Ralof was no mage and really was better at archery. Dione would have to better teach him dual wielding. He was terrible at as he handled two steel axes against a Draugr with an ebony battle axe. After dispatching her Draugr, Grete went in and cut its head off. The undead collapsed to its knees, and then fell onto its side.

"Good work, girl!" Galmar cheered to Grete, who looked shocked. She killed two Draugr!

"I can't believe I did that," she gasped.

"You should be proud of yourself," Belinda told her. "Not every day that someone can look a Draugr in the eye and slay it." She saw Grete's bleeding side. "Now, sit down and let me have a look at that." She moved Grete to a bench and sat her down. She tended to the redhead's wound while the others secured the chamber, making sure there were no more surprises.

Belinda knew enough first aid to clean, stitch, and cover the wound. Her mother was a nurse and she herself had had stitches before and had tended to her own bandages. Grete thanked her and stayed seated, deciding it was best to just rest.

"Hear, new blood," Galmar grunted, handing Belinda the Jagged Crown. "Get this back to Ulfric in Windhelm and tell him he owes me a drink."

"Well, okay then," Belinda responded, taking the crown with care. Lucien and Dione followed her. As they walked, she looked to Lucien. "How did you get Grete to put her awe into that?" she asked.

"Telepathy, my dear friend," Lucien answered. "She dreams of herself on Innistrad. I simply reached for those 'dreams' of hers and converted them into memory. And with memory, the brain sends signals to the muscles in her body, allowing her to instinctively know what to do in the situation."

"Genius," Dione muttered.

"Just wait until you here the Genetic Memory Theory," Lucien chuckled.

"It's a long way back to Windhelm, so you'll have time to tell me," Dione pointed out.

"Indeed."


	4. Chapter 4: Demons of Skorn

_Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 5_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

Belinda, Dione, and Lucien arrived back at Windhelm a few days after retrieving the Jagged Crown. They would have been sooner, but a snow storm forced them to take shelter in a cave for the night. So it was midafternoon when they arrived at the Windhelm stables. One of the Khajiit caravans was camped out behind the stables, cooking Elsweyr fondue. The chestnut warhorses were wearing thick blankets to further help them stay warm against the cold of late winter while the stable hands mucked out the stalls and laid down fresh hay. Belinda and Dione dismounted Queen Alfsigr and Frost, pat they necks, and led them to two vacant stalls. Stable hands came and laid down hay and filled the feed and water troughs while the women blanketed their mounts. Lucien's attention was draw to the stall beside Frost's. It was not vacant, and its occupant stayed in the darkened corner, eyes glowing red in the shadows.

"What is it Lucien?" Belinda asked, stepping out of Queen Alfsigr's stall.

"The horse in this stall," Lucien answered. "Someone in Windhelm is going to die."

Belinda looked over the door to the horse in the corner. She saw their glowing red eyes and how their body melded with the shadows. She gazed closer, opening her sight to the horse. It was some form of Daedra. The demonic horse glared at them, their red eyes warning them to back off. They opened their mouth, revealing jagged teeth. They huffed, their breath coming out in a cloud. Belinda looked to Lucien.

"Do you know this horse?" she asked.

"Shadowmere," Lucien answered, "the Steed of Carnage. They're a genderless Nightmare that was summoned to Nirn long ago. They serve only the greatest assassins, usually the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood."

"Shit," Belinda gasped. "We need to alert the guard; it may be Jarl Ulfric who's in danger."

They ran for the gates, gathering guards once inside the city. In the Palace, they saw Nathiel, standing before Ulfric in Imperial Legion armor. The blond elf turned his head slightly. His weapons were sheathed, but did that mean Belinda trusted him? Ulfric was standing, glaring at the half-elf, knowing Tullius had sent the half-elf as an insult. Belinda drew Dragonbane, bringing the edge of the blade to the assassin's neck.

"You have 30 seconds to vacate the premises before I set you on fire," she growled at him.

Nathiel smirked. "A lot can happens in 30 seconds," he pointed out, and spun on Belinda, drawing his dark daggers.

Belinda blocked as fast as she could, but suffered multiple cuts due to the speed of the daggers. The cuts were dealt by the ebony looking dagger, the Blade of Woe. She recognized the other dagger: Mehrunes' Razor. She wasn't stupid. That blade would mean instant death for her! The Blade of Woe hurt, and she could see the red mist of her life force leave her, preventing Nathiel from being truly harmed by any attack she might deal him. She cursed. She would be dead in seconds, but then Lucien leapt over her, maw open wide and eyes wild. He flew at Nathiel to kill, but the half-elf jumped to the side, avoiding injury. But so, too, did Lucien.

 _He could have killed me, but didn't,_ the lynx thought, glaring at Nathiel as he landed.

Dione moved to the other side of Nathiel, Nightingale Blade in her hand. Belinda shook as she stood, body aching.

"Stay away from the Razor; it has a chance to kill upon cutting," she pointed out. Her grip on her sword tightened. She could not allow anything to distract her, not while the Razor was involved. She would need to disarm it from Nathiel. She and the half-elf circled each other, neither giving the other advantage. Then Nathiel ranged too close to the Lucien, and the lynx bit him.

Nathiel shouted, kicking at Lucien and making him back away. Belinda charged, swinging her sword at Nathiel. He quickly defended himself and tried to cut her with Mehrunes' Razor. Belinda Shouted "Feim" and became ethereal, causing the razor to pass right through her. She brought arcane fire to her hand and blasted Nathiel the second she was corporeal again. The half-elf became singed, grunting in pain and backing up. He managed to get a shield, but even that broke before Belinda was done. He was against a wall, and was right where Dione wanted him to be. She launched an ebony arrow at him and it pierced his chest. It was a brilliant shot, but not good enough to kill him. She missed his heart, but the arrowhead had been poisoned. When Nathiel ripped out the arrow, the wound bled profusely.

"Thirty seconds are up," Belinda pointed out. "Yol-TOOR-SHUL!" She Shouted fire at him, blasting Nathiel and burning him badly. He hadn't had the chance to Planeswalk out and to safety.

"Best decapitate him to ensure he stays dead," Lucien pointed out. Belinda nodded and did so. Dione retrieved the daggers and wrapped up and bound Mehrunes' Razor in its sheath. Lucien took it and put it in his pack. _"I'll take it off plane,"_ he told them telepathically. _"Because Dagon's power only resides in this reality, the dagger will be powerless else."_

" _Smart,"_ Dione agreed.

"That was brave and foolish," Ulfric commented, coming up to them. "Tullius sent him to negotiate terms of surrender. I was telling him off when you came in. It seems now we have no choice but to truly begin."

Belinda nodded. "At least now we don't have to worry about Nathiel, who was a very real threat," she pointed out. "I'll bet Tullius had ordered him to not kill you. I don't doubt he'd have killed you anyway."

"I'll bet you're right," Ulfric agreed. "Also, was the mission successful?"

"Aye; you owe Galmar a drink it seems," Belinda answered, producing the Jagged Crown from her pack. She handed it to Ulfric, who smiled in amusement.

"Damn, that old bear was right," he chuckled.

"There were legion soldiers there, though," Belinda pointed out.

Ulfric cursed. "There are spies everywhere," he rumbled.

"No; Nathiel had to have known where the crown was," Lucien told them. "He's both old to know and was one of Amanisa's students."

"Who?" Ulfric asked.

"That's a story for another time," Lucien answered. "For now, I need to hide the razor in a place no one will find it." He trotted off.

"We'll get rid of Nathiel's body," Belinda told Ulfric.

"Right. When you're done with that, return to me," Ulfric ordered. "I have an important task for you when you return."

* * *

 _Belinda's Hometown  
Earth  
March 5, 2008_

Belinda and Dione 'walked onto Belinda's homeplane. They landed in a large, beautiful park she had often visited growing up. The air was cool and damp, not unusual for this time of year in this region. Right now, her copy would be getting out of school. She looked around, knowing exactly where they were. Thankfully, it was empty of other people and she knew where to dump Nathiel's body. After they cut up him and filled a few potato sacks with his limps and rocks, they dumped him in the river.

"Are you sure no one will find him?" Dione asked, blood staining her clothes.

"Hardly anyone ever comes back here and the water has a high bacteria content," Belinda answered. "I should be too young to know what to do."

Dione looked at her. Belinda was still a child, only 16, about to turn 17. She was too young for all the burdens and responsibilities thrust upon her, too young to be a soldier, too young to have blood on her hands. And yet, here she was. "Are you okay?" Dione asked.

"Hell no," Belinda answered. "I'm just a fucking teenager. I shouldn't be aware of consequences or thinking. I should be in school, daydreaming about stupid boys and my prom night! I should be learning how to drive and failing miserably! I should be some dumb shit! Instead, I'm an adult living an adult life, rightfully thinking everything I dreamed about as a child is really stupid, pointless, and trivial! Remember how I always told you being a Planeswalker can be a curse? Well there it is! I have to actually _think_ about the bigger picture and where I step instead of thinking about dumb shit that _normal_ teenagers think about!"

Dione nodded. She was not as travelled or had been a Planeswalker as long as Belinda, but she was 26, ten years her friend's senior. She had been an adult for quite a while, but it seemed Belinda had been an adult even longer. Dione supposed that was another curse of being a Planeswalker. Some just forced themselves to grow up fast.

"Let's get back," the Dragonborn huffed. "There's only so much of this world I can stand before I suffo-." They heard a gurgling growl and turned to see demons appear. Their upper bodies were armored like knights, though with ebony-like armor. They had tower shields on their left arms while their right armors ended in pinchers that, when opened, a spear like appendage slid out. Their lower bodies were scorpion-like with six leg and the typical scorpion tail.

"What in Oblivion are _those_?!" Dione asked.

"Dark Knights of the demon Skorn's line," Belinda answered, drawing Dragonbane.

"So this plane's Daedra," Dione huffed, drawing her daggers.

"Basically. Don't let them spear you," Belinda explained. "Those spears are poisonous and that poison hurts like a bitch. It'll render you weak and they'll pull you in to chop you in half with the pinchers. And mind the tails."

"Got it."

The five demons charged, trying to impale them with the poisonous spears. Both women were fast, managing to dodge the tails and arm-spears. They were outnumbered though, and the Scorpion Knights were larger than them. One smacked Dione with its shield and knocked her into a pile of gravel. She grunted before rolling onto the wet, dusty ground. Two came up to her, their pinchers snapping open and close. She blasted their legs with ice, trying to freeze them up. Sure enough, that made it harder for them to move. Now she had to find a way to kill them without getting poisoned. The armors looked too hard for her arrows to pierce, but their eyes were still open. She would have to make a perfect shot for their eyes. She managed to get around the piles of gravel and climb the cliff. She didn't really think about, so long as she got up. She reached the top and drew her bow and arrows. One was free and coming toward her. It impaled the wall with its legs. She aimed for the one still stuck and whistled for its attention. Clearly the things were dumb, because it looked up and she launched the arrow. Right into its eyes. They things died, dispersing into black smoke. The other one reached her and tried to stab her with its arm-spear. Dione jumped over the Scorpion Knight, landing on its tail. Interestingly, the tail went straight, exposing flesh between the chiton. The Dunmer pulled out her knife and cut into the tail, sever the flesh and cutting the muscles within. The demon screeched in pain and tried to throw her off.

Belinda used ice to create a platform on the river, and naturally slipped and nearly fell into the cold, dirty water. At least was safe from the demons for now. These ones could swim and because of how murky the water was, neither she nor the demons had any clue how deep the water actually was here. She looked up at the three demons glowering at her, and she realized she was starting to drift down river. She stood on the platform, though it wobbled and she fell back down. That's when something appeared in the water. She looked closely: Fins. She swallowed hard and looked for some way to get back to shore. She had trapped herself to escape the scorpion knights. A serpentine demon emerged from the water, snarling. It roared at her. Skorn was going all out for her. She felt blue and green mana around her, so she didn't have some preferred options, especially since Drakes were painfully unpredictable. Either way, it would have to do. She pulled on blue mana and summoned a Wind Drake from Kaladesh.

 _I should visit there again some time,_ she thought. The drake had a sleek body, easy to maneuver around the serpent. It blasted the large demons with cold breath of icy gales. The demon thrashed and tried to catch the drake in its maw. That resulted in the drake swatting its face with its whip-like tail. With the demon distracted, Belinda switched her sword for two daggers and jumped onto the demon. She stabbed it and used the daggers to climb. The demon screeched and tried to turn its attention toward her, but the drake continued its diversion. Belinda continued her climb. Finally, the demon dove. Belinda saw the danger she was in and took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and just in time for the icy water to hit her.

The wind drake gave a screech before targeting the demons on the ground. It blasted them with its icy breath. Dione was impressed as she finally to cut the demon's tail off. Next she climbed up the knight and slit the knight's throat. The demon screeched and fell back. Dione combined a shield and ice spells and formed a bubble around her. She landed uninjured, and the demon landed beside her. This still left her with the other three knights. The drake was still attacking them. Dione took a deep breath and pulled the mana around her. Only the blue mana from the river and the red mana from the cliff. Both were weak, but they would suffice for now. She then summoned two storm atronachs all the way from Nirn. They helped her fight as she conjured fire and ice into an attack. But it wasn't enough. One knight charged her while the others fought the atronachs. She brought fire to one hand, ice to the other. She needed something _stronger_ than the two combined. Together, fire and ice confused the nervous system. It just needed a strong _kick_. Lightning arched between the two elements. The demon was on her. She powered and charged the fire, ice, and lightning, and then blasted the demon. It reduced the knight to _ashes_.

The serpent surfaced, bringing Belinda up. She gasped in pain. She started climbing again, stabbing the demon hard. Her lungs burned and her body ached from the icy water. The demon was going to get them spotted! Did Skorn no longer care about subtlety?! The serpent demon find stopped and raised its head, shaking its body to get her off. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon! She made it to the head, glad the demon had tough flesh so she would fall off. Now her arms ached. Once on the head, she repeatedly stabbed it. It shook its head again, and a dagger went flying out of Belinda's head and into the river below. With a hand free, she drew Dragonbane again and rammed it through the serpent's head. The beast howled in pain and died, collapsing into the water just as Dione and her atronachs finished off the knights. Belinda grabbed the Skysteel dagger before she lost it and swam to shore. Dione pulled her up.

"Want to dry off first or head back to Windhelm now?" she asked.

"Let's…Breathe first," Belinda answered.


	5. Chapter 5: The Battle for Whiterun

_Windhelm, Eastmarch  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 6_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

It took all of a minute to get back to Mundus, but it felt like an eternity. Dione felt that maybe that was why they called them the Blind Eternities. She followed Belinda through, feeling as though maybe dumping Nathiel's body on Earth was probably not the best idea. But they had to move on and return to Windhelm. They landed a day's travel from the ancient city, and began the long, tedious hike back. They were attacked by a few saber cats that called the Eastmarch home. That was about the only thing of substance to happen. A few saber cat teeth for home.

They arrived in the Palace of Kings to hear Ulfric and Galmar talking about Whiterun, how everything hinged on it, how everything depended on Balgruuf's response. Belinda and Dione exchanged wry looks. They knew whoever held Whiterun won the war, and what Gerdur had said about Balgruuf making the wrong decision in regards to not wanting to side with Ulfric due to personal reasons came to Belinda's mind. She fidgeted, a habit she couldn't seem to get rid of. Where was Lucien? Shouldn't he have been back by-? There he was, trotting in and shaking fur from himself and his cloak.

"You okay?" he asked.

"They're talking about Whiterun," Belinda answered.

"It's a war," Lucien pointed out. "If the Stormcloaks have any chance of winning this war, they need to know they can rely on Whiterun. Its central position makes it ideal for getting the upper hand on the enemy. With Whiterun, we control the majority of trade routes in-."

"I know, Lucien," Belinda snapped, and she saw Lucien's ears flatten. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bark at you. It's just that…There's a sense of loyalty to Whiterun. Some of the people have expressed that Balgruuf would sooner join the Empire rather than support Ulfric in any way, and I have a feeling I already know Balgruuf's stance in this war, all because of his personal biases against the man." She played with her braid. It felt loose closer to her head. It had grown again. _I need to re-braid my hair,_ she thought.

"…we take the city without bloodshed, then that would be even better," they heard Ulfric telling Galmar, returning to his throne tiredly. He didn't want to attack Whiterun either. That was good. He and Belinda were on the same page then. She walked over to him and bowed.

"Sorry it took so long to return," she told him. "I'm ready for whatever task you have for me."

"You say that now, but are you really?" Ulfric asked. There were bags under his eyes. He needed sleep. "Galmar, the axe."

His old friend nodded and retrieved it from the war room. It was a large, Skysteel axe with bears carved into it an ancient manner. The pole of the weapon was made from dragonbone, that much Belinda could already tell, and was wrapped in dark grey leather held by Skysteel rivets. It was a fine piece, one that was both aesthetic and functional. Galmar held it out for Belinda, who took it with both hands. It was painfully heavy, so she hefted it onto her shoulder. Her bad knee buckled a little, but she stood up straight.

"You want me to take this to Balgruuf?" she asked.

"You're intuitive," Ulfric responded. He sighed. "Yes, I need you to take it to Balgruuf and return to me with the answered." He almost smirked at the sight of the small, teenage hero carrying a battle axe almost as long as she was and was quite possibly a third if not half her weight. "I hope you know what the axe symbolizes."

Belinda nodded. "I do, but I think we both know what the answer will be."

"We can only hope that will not be his answer," Ulfric responded.

Belinda nodded again and left, Dione and Lucien following. The former made sure to cover the axe as they secured it to Queen Alfsigr's saddle. The mare snorted at the extra weight, so Belinda put a sack on the mare's other side and put Lucien in. It balanced the mare so her rider could mount with ease. As they left, they saw Shadowmere had left. None of them were sure that was a good thing.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 10_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

The road to Whiterun was quiet and uneventful. No beast strayed into the road and no bandits were at the towers. When they arrived on noon of the third day, they retreated to Breezehome to bathe and rest. That was when their friend Sieghard Wolfson came. The tall, 6'4" Nord man looked like your stereotypical, battle-hardened Nord: Tall, muscular, pale-skinned, scarred, wolf tattoos and crisscrossing red war paint on his face where his light brown beard did not touch. The beard fell to his chest with three thin braid on top, and his hair was a honey gold. He had a pair of moon silver eyes that were almost wolfish. That was about the only thing that didn't seem standard about his appearance. Most Nords had blue eyes, but Sieghard's were a truth of sorts: He was a Werewolf, a human able to take the form of a wolf-like beast. He wore steel plate armor lined with black fur with a wolf motif that paid homage to the beast blood running through the veins of the Companions's elite, the Circle and the Harbinger.

"You've been away a while," he told Belinda, who was currently dressed in lilac dress that fit loosely around her with a square neckline that dipped into a V-shape over her chest.

"I went and joined the Stormcloaks," she responded.

"And they took a 16-year-old girl?" Sieghard did not like this news. Ulfric knew who and what Belinda was, and the man would undoubtedly put her on the frontlines. Sieghard himself had developed a fondness of the girl, almost how a father would view a daughter, and he had always hated how Belinda was constantly putting herself in danger. He worried she would get in over her head if someone wasn't there to keep an eye on her. She needed a shield-sibling around!

"So did Lucien and Dione," Belinda pointed out. "Besides, I hate the Thalmor as much as anyone in Skyrim. Might as well do something about it. Look, I'll have people who can keep me safe. Odahviing comes when I call, Lucien's almost always at my side, and Dione can cover me with her arrows. Not to mention my friends Ralof and Grete will have my back."

Sieghard sighed. "Okay. But you know I cannot involve myself in the war, right?" he asked. "I'm bringing this to yours attention because I won't be there."

Belinda nodded. "I know. The vows of the Companions prevent you from entering a civil dispute in Skyrim," she answered. "But you may wish to prepare the people."

Sieghard raised a brow.

"The war will come here," Belinda pointed out. "Keep your people off the lines and shelter the civilians."

"How are you sure?" Sieghard asked.

Belinda pointed to Ulfric's axe on the table by the door. "I'll be taking that to Balgruuf tomorrow on Ulfric's behalf. We all know what Balgruuf's response will be. Me taking the axe to him is just a courtesy, a wasted last chance."

Sieghard closed his eyes, sighing. "Then it'll be up to me to warn people," he muttered. "I hope you're prepared to leave Whiterun when Balgruuf gives his response. He'll be furious."

"I know. Lydia will keep the house safe as best she can," Belinda responded. "She and Dione are currently preparing a cart for me to take stuff to Windhelm. Dione is going to try and appeal to the Greymane since they'll like be the ones with any sway after the battle."

And the very next day, Belinda was in her Stormcloak armor, carrying the axe on her shoulders. She stood at the bottom of the step leading up to Dragonsreach, looking up at the castle. Lucien stood beside, wearing his favored teal cloak. On his legs were silver bracers adorned with diamond-shaped, cabochon-cut aventurines. He looked up with teal eyes and brushed against her legs, purring. She looked down with a smiled.

"Trying to make me feel better?" she asked Lucien.

"Always," the lynx replied.

"Okay. No more putting it off," Belinda mumbled. She climbed the steps, Lucien following. The guards let them in, cold air rushing into the hall. The ceiling was high as usual, displaying yellow banners with dark brown embroidery in the shape of a horse's head. Lucien looked up at the banners, found memories playing of the days when he traveled through Rohan with Amanisa. He remembered the vast, rolling plains and the wild horses. Skyrim was a lot like Rohan: Vast lands with mountains aplenty and tall mead halls with lords and ladies. No, Whiterun was a lot like Rohan. The rest of Skyrim was like other places in the Multiverse.

Lucien understood the need to have Whiterun under Stormcloak command. It was central position that bordered Falkreath, which would cut off Imperial supply routes; bordered the Reach, which would cut off access to the mines and slow down production of weapons and armor; and bordered the unimportant Hjaalmarch. Nothing important there really. The Stormcloaks were in Eastmarch, which was the second major port in Skyrim, and they controlled the Pale where Dawnstar was, where the third port city in Skyrim was in addition to two more important mines. Getting the Reach quickly would put all of the most important mines in Skyrim under Stormcloak control and having Falkreath in addition to the Rift cut off support from Cyrodiil. Whiterun would cut off the trade route. Solitude was in a bad position for war, especially since it was half a day's walk to Solitude's port! The only real advantage Solitude had was being on a natural phenomenon with a rather narrow route to the city.

" _If we take Whiterun, we could easily take Solitude,"_ he told Belinda telepathically.

" _We could, couldn't we,"_ Belinda responded. _"It lacks many advantages. Even if we lose Whiterun, Windhelm can be easily defended, and we can successfully cut off access via the port. The proper sea barricades can damage imperial ships. If we could find a storm mages, passage would be impossible."_

" _Exactly,"_ Lucien said.

They passed the giant fireplace in the center of the hall. Balgruuf was talking to Proventus as usual, and as usual, Irelith was standing by Balgruuf's side, protecting him. She looked to Belinda, and raised a thin brow at the axe. Her sharp eyes examined the weapon, and recognition set it. She knew it, and knew the uniform Belinda now wore.

"Balgruuf," she spoke, cutting into the conversation between her Jarl and Proventus. They looked at her and then followed her gaze to Belinda.

"You? A Stormcloak?" Balgruuf exclaimed.

"Yeah; I'm doing something about the Thalmor," Belinda pointed out. She looked down, shuffling her feet. "Anyway, I have a message from Jarl Ulfric…" She hefted the axe off her shoulders and offered it to Balgruuf. "He wanted me to give you this."

It wasn't a threat or a challenge. It was an offer to join the Stormcloaks or be defeated. For the next ten minutes, Balgruuf, Irelith, and Proventus debated and bickered. Proventus was urging caution, but Irelith was saying it was time to pick a side, to decide and act upon it. Belinda stood there uncomfortably, but saw Balgruuf contemplating. Was he actually going to choose joining the Stormcloaks? That would be ideal. Everyone expressed the desire to not shed blood. Finally, Balgruuf made his decision and interrupted Irelith and Proventus as they bickered more.

"Enough!" he snapped. He turned to Belinda. "Take the axe back to Ulfric. That is my answer. Proventus." He turned to his steward. "Fetch the good parchment. I want to make a few things clear before I allow him to garrison his troops here."

Belinda returned the axe to her shoulders and left, Lucien following. He looked up to her. "He almost considered it," he pointed out. "That means something."

"He hates the Thalmor like everyone else," Belinda responded, "but in the end, we knew it was pointless. But at least he knows we're coming. It would have left a bitter taste in their mouths to attack without warning and provocation. She joined Dione at the stables. She was mounted and ready to go. Belinda secured the axe to the saddle, seeing the Companions heading out. Belinda saw Sieghard come over.

"Went about as well as expected?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Belinda answered.

Sieghard lifted Lucien into the sack. "Well, you tried, and I'm sending everyone away on jobs for a few days while Aela and I stay in Riverwood. The Greymane will be taking the civilians in until the battle has passed."

"Good," Belinda sighed.

"Good luck, Belinda," Sieghard told her.

She smiled and nodded, and then got into the saddle of her much-too-big horse. "Good luck to you too," she responded, and urged her mare forward. Dione gave Sieghard a respective nod and urged her stallion after.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 17_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

On the way back to Windhelm, there were a few bandits. Lucien used his illusion magic to make the group invisible and silence the sounds they made so that the bandits would know nothing of their passing. Belinda was glad. She didn't want to deal with them. She was relieved to be back in Windhelm and Ulfric allowed her to stay in one of the rooms in the palace. That was nice. Galmar and Ralof hauled trunk of Belinda's belongings to the room and set it down.

"What's in there? Rocks?" Galmar asked. Belinda opened the trunk and removed the clothes within. Books.

"Ulfric is still upset that Balgruuf refuse," Lucien reported, padding in before hopping onto one of the bed. Belinda was going to share the room with Lucien and Dione, and had moved the beds to fit a smaller bed between them. The servants provided dividers to give them all privacy. Belinda grabbed a pear and ate it.

Not long after that, Ulfric gave the painful order to march on Whiterun. He wanted Belinda there because she needed to be there. He joined them, not wanting to stay behind. He wanted to be there. They arrived by the south farms after sunset, looking at the city. Ulfric sat on a stone wall, and Belinda decided to sit beside him.

"I remember when I first came to Whiterun," Belinda started. "I was coming from Riverwood to tell the Jarl where I had last spotted the dragon and to tell him what happened at Helgan. On the way, I spotted the Companions fighting a giant. I met the Harbinger and his wife, and they got me into the city. I still can't believe that was over six month ago now."

"And you've since defeated Alduin," Ulfric pointed out.

"Like it was the easiest thing in the world to do," Belinda muttered. She snickered. "Whelp, best get some sleep. We have a battle to win tomorrow." She hopped up and went to her tent. When she awoke, she felt the hot, sticky wetness of her period. She growled irritably. _Oh, just perfect,_ she thought. She quickly changed her panties, adding a heavy duty pad because she would need it today. She wasn't going to have much time to change it out. _Fuck the uterus, fuck periods, fuck, fuck, and fuck!_ This was going to be a horrible day for everyone involved.

"Hey Belinda," Ralof greeted as she went to join the others preparing for battle.

"Hi," Belinda responded irritably, "and no, I'm not okay. It's just that time of the month where murder sounds like a wonderful idea."

Ralof nodded, but said nothing. They joined the others readying for battle. Galmar started giving a speech, though Belinda barely heard him. Something about Whiterun's walls being old and weak like the empire? Dione was nowhere to be seen, but Grete was beside her, nervous again. Belinda gave her, what she hoped, was a reassuring smile.

"Now everyone, on me!" Galmar shouted, and led the charge.

Everyone drew weapons and charged toward the main gates. Lucien was using his magic to make it look like the forces were smaller than it really was, to give the Imperials and Thalmor lining the walls a false sense of security. A few Stormcloaks almost stopped dead when they saw the Thalmor, but remembered the disappearances of friends, family, and neighbors and charged again. The Thalmor launched arrows and magic, killing men and women almost instantly. Grete dodged a fireball. That was when Belinda saw a shadow moving across the wall.

Dione was in her Nightingale armor because it afforded her the best stealth. She summoned her power of Nocturnal and caused the Thalmor to attack the Imperial soldiers. She smiled. This would cause strain on the relationship between the two factions. She combined ice and lightning into a grappling hook and use it to swing around from a watchtower to the drawbridge. When she landed, she was greeted by five Imperial Soldiers, who switched their bows for swords. One had a large shield and heavy armor. She sighed. When were dumb brutes going to learn?

Belinda Shouted fire on the enemy ahead of her, watching men scream in pain and try to put themselves out. Those who had not been caught in her cone of flame came charging past them toward her. She brought arcane lightning to her hands and zapped them. The lightning chained to three soldiers. Was the Imperial legion even trying? Or were the Thalmor letting the legion dive into death? She charged forward and toward a Thalmor who swung at her with a morning star. She had nearly run into that!

Grete and Ralof were surrounded. How had that happened? Lucien leapt on a Thalmor soldier, appearing seemingly from nowhere. He crushed the back plate of the soldier under his paws. That provided enough distraction for Ralof and Grete to do something. They attacked, the blades of their weapons shining. The Thalmor she went against was armed with a rapier, one that was beautiful and elegant in its design. It was also fast and cut through the air. Weapon to avoid. She fought valiantly while Ralof had to deal with a spiked mace. He jumped back, letting the mace smash into the ground in front of him. Apparently, the Thalmor was not very skilled in the weapon's use and the mace was stuck. So, Ralof swung his axe and nearly hacked the elf's head off. Grete managed to disarm her foe and steal the weapon. She ran the bastard through.

Dione created something of a gravity sphere when she managed to combine lightning, ice, and a telekinesis spell together. She wasn't even sure how she managed three spells together, but it work to disarm soldiers. Except the weapons were coming at her. So, she empower the telekinesis a little more to control the weapons and keep them from killing her, and threw them back into her enemies. They dropped dead to the ground. All the Dunmer could think was how awesome it was! She needed to practice. If she could tweak this fusion just right, she could use this to better her thieving, not that she needed to. She sent out her lightning-ice grappling hooks to the levers controlling the bridge and pulled. The bridge then dropped and the Imperials and Thalmor retreated into the city.

Belinda finally dispatched her foe, who had taken her five minutes to beat. It would have been faster had she not been hesitant to use her Shouts or magic. What if she hit an ally? She met back up with Lucien, Ralof, and Grete, following them up into the city. They met back up with Dione before entering the city. The Imperials and Thalmor were on the front lines with the Whiterun Guard behind them. Balgruuf didn't want his men and women dying without reason when they could kill off a bunch of Thalmor, and Belinda blasted through the barricades with Unrelenting Force, and nearly got her head cut off by a Thalmor with a sword. Ulfric appeared as if from nowhere and defended her with his shield. He was left-handed like she was. Then Galmar came and killed the Thalmor soldier.

"Are you alright?" Ulfric asked.

"Yeah, thanks," Belinda replied. "Barricade's down at least."

Ulfric nodded and they continued fighting their way up to Dragonsreach. The Whiterun guards stood ready for them at the bridge leading to the castle, but they stood down. They back away and fled to the barracks. They knew when they were beat. Ulfric, Galmar, Belinda, and Ralof entered the castle, and Balgruuf was shouting to his remaining men and Irelith, who was trying to keep him from running in.

"My lord, your heart," Irelith reminded.

"I'm not going down without fighting!" Balgruuf responded loudly, grabbing his great sword. He, Irelith, and two guards charged into battle.

Balgruuf and Ulfric attacked one another while Galmar took care of Irelith. Ralof and Belinda went against the guards. Belinda was fast, quickly disarming the guard. He was new and was clumsily holding his sword. All Belinda had to do was come in close, bringing the blade of her sword close to the guard of his sword, and then grabbed his wrist with her free hand and gave enough of a twist to make him drop it. The sword clattered to the floor and Belinda forced him to the side. Ralof had killed the guard he was against, blood spraying him. Galmar threw Irelith to the ground and raised his axe to finish her off, but Balgruuf disengaged with Ulfric, dropping his sword and grabbing the shaft of Galmar's axe to save his housecarl. He managed to get Galmar off and away from Irelith.

"Enough," he growled. "I yield. I yield…" He reached down and helped Irelith up. The doors then opened, and everyone turned to see Vignar Greymane enter Dragonsreach. Balgruuf, supporting his housecarl, glared at him. "Vignar…Wouldn't a knife to the back have sufficed?" he snapped. The two began to bicker until Ulfric and Galmar shut them up. After they departed, Balgruuf turned to Belinda. "I expected more from you."

It was the disappointment in his voice that hurt the most.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 18_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E201_

The frost dragons that had come at Odahviing's call were helpful in putting out the flames. People cheered and one farmer gave them a cow as thanks. Belinda went up to the red dragon, giving him pears that she had cut and pitted and a few large, homemade venison burgers.

"What are these?" Odahviing asked.

"We call them cheeseburgers back home, though these are made with deer and elk meat," Belinda replied. "Basically ground meat mixed with chopped onions, chopped garlic, salt, and ground black pepper for flavor and topped with cheese and sandwiched between bread."

"I like this very much," the dragon told her.

"I would have made bigger cheeseburgers, but those patties were hard enough to flip and I don't think I would have found large enough buns," Belinda pointed out with a small giggle.

"Either way, I would like to have these again some time," Odahviing stated.

"Of course."

Odahviing and the frost dragons departed, returning to the Throat of the World. Belinda sighed and returned to her house.

* * *

 _Unknown, Earth_

Nathiel awoke, blood bubbling up and he rolled onto his hands and knees to vomit the blood and bile up. Behind him stood the menacing form of Skorn. He shuddered at the demon's presence and stood. His body shook and twitched as he forced his sewn-together limbs to obey his will. His right hand was blackened with death, though through necromancy, he commanded the hand to obey. Black wire held his limbs together and many of his lost organs had been replaced with demonic ones, binding to his being through necroalchemy and demonic magic. He spat more blood and bile onto the floor.

"This form is wretched," he rasped, looking up at his master. "Why did you revive me like this?"

"You'll find you're stronger now," responded the demon. He stood to his full height of seven and a half feet tall, the lower half of his body that of a massive black scorpion, each lower leg made of hooked blades. His humanlike upper body was black-skinned, with powerful armor and clad in a black plate armor with sickly green highlights Emerging from his back were four additional arms, the lower ones ending in spears and the upper ones being large pincher. His teeth were jagged and razor sharp, his eyes a sickly green, and a pair of horn curved out of his head. He was a demon worshipped by necromancers, canceromancers, and master of poisons, which suited him since Nathiel employed two of those three magics.

"How long before my body becomes accustomed to this unlife?" Nathiel asked.

"You still live, while other parts of you are dead or replaced," Skorn answered. "It will take time." He chuckled. "The girl made a mistake, bringing you back to Earth. She clearly forgot about me."

"Clearly," Nathiel grunted.

"No more toying with her now though," Skorn pointed out. "No more hindering her progress. Bring her to me."

Blood drizzled down Nathiel's chin.

"And then we wait for Karr, and then we'll kill her right in front of him!"


	6. Chapter 6: Prisoners of Fort Neugrad

_Falkreath Stormcloak Camp, Falkreath Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 25_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E201_

Belinda ate a pear as she rode Queen Alfsigr along the road. She, Dione, Lucien, and Grete were en route to the Falkreath Stormcloak Camp to be briefed on the mission. After she was done with her pear, she tossed if off-road. Next, she looked at her map to make sure she knew where they were. Not too much further, it appeared. As long as she made the right turnoff, they would be at the camp before nightfall, meaning they'd be in time for a hot dinner, which they were all looking forward to after a travelling a few days without stopping at an inn for food and rest. They had to sleep in old bedrolls and eat jerky, and it _rained_ the night before! So the women, horses, and cat were all irritable and testy, shaking from the cold air of early spring. The fur, water-proofed cloaks did nothing to stave off the cold. They finally reached the turn-off and guided their horse up a beaten path to the camp. The quartermaster was already preparing the food and soldiers were setting up a large tent and cots for the women to sleep in.

Ralof looked up from his work, grinning as his friends dismounted and Lucien shook his body. Then he frowned, seeing how miserable they looked. "Bad trip?" he asked.

"The first few days were fine," Belinda answered. "Nothing but stiff backs and sore asses from riding all damn day and sleeping in shitty conditions, but then last night…OH, BY KYNARETH"S KNICKERS! It _rained!_ So now we're cold, wet, sleep-deprived, and hungry for a warm dinner."

"Well, dinner's getting started, so you'll have time to change and nap before then," Ralof promised. "I swear by Talos I'll wake you for sup."

"Thank you Ralof," Belinda sighed.

She, Dione, and Grete entered the tent to start changing their clothes. Lucien stood guard outside. His paws were muddy. He would need a bath. Dione melted some snow in a basin and heated the water with a basic fire spell. She washed up and reheated and cleaned it for Grete, and then again for Belinda. They donned clean clothes and permitted Lucien to enter. Belinda bathed him and dried him with a towel, happy with his cooperation. Afterwards, they laid in the cots and napped for a couple hours.

Ralof woke them up for supper as promised, and they joined their fellow soldiers in line. Galmar was ahead of them, getting his bowl filled. Venison stew and roll. Belinda, Dione, Grete, Lucien, Ralof, and Galmar sat at a table near his tent. He had words for them.

"Ralof, tonight I want you to head out with your unit and scout Fort Neugrad," he ordered. "We have reports of some of our own imprisoned there. They're to be moved in three days to Solitude for questioning. We need them out before then."

"Got it," Ralof responded.

"Ice-Veins, Red, Grey-Skin, and Cat." Galmar looked at Belinda.

"That's not offensive at all," Lucien commented, glaring.

"My hair's not that red," Grete grumbled.

"And I thought your shithead brother was bad," Dione groaned.

"What am I? The White Queen of fucking Narnia?" Belinda asked.

What?!" the others, save Lucien, responded. They were confused.

"Never mind, not important," Belinda muttered. She looked at Galmar. "What?"

"Belinda, Dione, Grete, and Lucien, you'll meet up with them tomorrow morning and see what they learned," Galmar answered.

"Fine," Belinda yawned. She was still tired and ready to go to bed. She finished her stew as Ralof gathered his men. The girls and Lucien retired to their tent for the night. She laid on her cot. "So glad we're not being made to sleep on the ground tonight."

"Agreed," Dione groaned. She didn't mind sleeping on the ground, just not out in the rain with no cave or shelter close by to stay in, and part of Dione felt that it was still too early in the year for rain, but they were close the Cyrodiil's border and the Rift and Falkreath didn't get much snow anyway. Her mind drifted, wondering about her mothers back home: Hilda and Oriana.

Hilda was a tall, muscular Nord woman with green-blue eyes and sunshine hair always in braids. She needed her hair out of her face anyway, as she was a blacksmith. She favored the color red, usually wearing red tunic, her favorite being the one with the ripped seam over the left shoulder she had clumsily sewn back together. She wore it with a pair of leggings, leather boots, gloves, and apron; a simple gold wedding band with a ruby (which she removed for work).

Oriana was quite the opposite of Hilda. The Cyrodiilic was short and on the plump side with curly brown hair worn in a messy bun and bright hazel eyes. She was more found of the color blue and usually wore pretty blue dresses with shoes and a purse to match. Her favorite dress was lovely, off-shoulder dress with puffy, mid-arm-length sleeves that made her chubby upper arms comfortable. It was ankle length, and she thought her ankles were her best feature, so she showed them off with pretty shoes and silver anklets. She always smelt of books and flowers. Her wedding ring was silver with a sapphire.

They had met when Oriana was still a traveling merchant, learning what she could from the Khajiit caravans whom she was apprenticed to. She had been thinner back then too. When she struck out on her own, she decided to hire Hilda, then a sellsword, to keep her, her horse, and her wagon of goods safe. Hilda had taken the job with a small sigh, and quickly learned Oriana was as helpless as she had believed. She learned her charge underestimated her skills in battle. Oh, Oriana couldn't lift a sword to save her life! But she always had a dagger that she knew how to use and was even a mage, but first a talented healer with excellent ward spells and good aim with arcane lightning spells.

Their travels took them from one end of Tamriel to another, then there was the war. Oriana ran supplies for the Imperial Legion, and Hilda fought for her. During that time, they saved each other's asses and fell hard for each other. After the war, they started running errands for Winterhold College. That's how they met Enthir and Savos Aren. One day, Dione's birth mother, Karliah, arrived at Winterhold, in labor, and delivered her. She gave Dione to Enthir, told him to hide her somewhere safe. Savos met Dione and dotted over her for a time, but knew that Winterhold College was no place for a baby.

Fortunately, that's when Oriana and Hilda arrived, talking about marrying, settling down, and adopting children. Enthir gave them newborn Dione, whose eyes were wide and looked like little lilacs. Oriana and Hilda fell in love with the tiny child. Enthir told them a dear had to give her up and to keep Dione away from Riften for as long as possible. The two women agreed and moved to the Imperial City. They set up shop in The Fighting Chance, the previous owner selling the place. There, they raised Dione.

"What are you thinking about?" Grete asked.

Dione looked to her. "My adopted mothers," she answered.

"What are they like?"

"They're lesbians, one a Nord and the other a Cyrodiilic. I refer to Hilda as Ma and Oriana as Mother," Dione explained. "They run a smithy together in the Imperial City."

"Do they make weapons and armor for the Legion?" Grete asked.

"Probably. Money is money and it's hard to have morals when you have to feed a family," Dione answered. "They adopt children, teach them skills, and send them out to become functioning adults." She sighed. "I miss them. They're good moms."

"So what do you call Karliah?" Lucien asked.

"Who's Karliah?" Grete questioned.

"Karliah is Mom or Karliah, and she's my birth mom," Dione replied. "She had to give me up when I was born because a lunatic was after her, and Enthir at Winterhold College happened to have known people who were looking to adopt. So he gave me to Ma and Mother, knowing I would have a good life and be loved. I learned to read, write, count, how to maintain my weapons and armor, how to swing a sword and dagger, sewing, and enough magic and first aid to survive. When I was teenager though, I met a thief, and something just clicked. I knew what I was doing and I was a naturally talented archer. It was the strangest thing. At least, I thought it was. After Mother had to bail me out of prison, she sent a letter to Enthir asking about the parents because I was turning out to be a bit of a bad apple. He replied that my birth parents had been thieves. My father knew dual-wielding and my mother was an archer, but both were amazingly incredible and extremely talented thieves, and they had been betrayed by a friend.

"I didn't know about the letter until a year and a half ago when I became Archmage of Winterhold College. They sent the letter with one, figuring I was old enough and capable enough to know. Of course, surviving an explosion and defending Winterhold from anomalies because we were infiltrated by a psychotic Thalmor bastard who got greedy…"

"So that's what happened," Grete muttered. She had heard that Winterhold had exploded almost two years ago and the village had been attacked by strange, magic creatures. A few of the buildings had been destroyed as well.

"We found an unusual artefact and were studying it," Dione explained. "Lucien might know what it was, but we didn't have his knowledge at our disposal at the time."

Lucien's ears perked up.

"We don't have it anymore," Dione pointed out. "The Psijic Order took it away."

Lucien's ears flattened.

"I'll put it up front in my mind," Dione told him.

"I don't want to know," Lucien responded. "If the Psijic Order took it away, it's a Grade A Pre-Mending threat that is better off be buried in the earth where it belongs. Not like it's the orb from Saarthal. That's be really ugly."

"Heheh, right," Dione muttered, and the subject was dropped. "After this is all over, I think I'll go see my mothers in Cyrodiil."

"Assuming you're not wanted in every city south of the Jerall Mountains for signing up with us," Grete pointed out.

Belinda rolled over and glared. "Shut. Up. Now."

The others leaned away. It was time to sleep.

* * *

 _Fort Neugrad, Falkreath Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 26_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E201_

Nathiel entered the fort, mounted on Shadowmere. He wore Legion armor, letting the soldiers there know he was one of them. Stiffly, he dismounted Shadowmere, patting their neck. He told them to behave and went to the fort's commander. They had things to talk about. No one stopped him. They were afraid to. He did, after all, give off an air of fear and death. He reached the office where the commander looked up from the map spread across the table.

"And you are?" the commander asked.

"A messenger from General Tullius," Nathiel responded, his voice like gravel. "There has been a change of plan. The prisoners are to be executed today. The Stormcloaks have discovered the fort's weakness and know about the transport. They're moving now to rescue them."

"How did General Tullius find out about all this?" the commander demanded.

"He doesn't; I saw the Stormcloaks on the way in," Nathiel replied. "Now, take me to the prisoners. I'll deal with them personally."

The commander sighed and led him to the dungeon. Fungus and moss grew here, as the lower level was flood from the lake. That provided all Nathiel needed to kill the Stormcloak prisoners. Six men and a woman, all underfed and stiff from sleeping on the floor. They would perish easily once the air filled with poison. The commander left Nathiel to it. Being a talented alchemist and plant mage, he had quickly built us an immunity to poisons and toxins, even fungal. He would watch as these prisoners die, making sure to get every single one.

Meanwhile, Belinda, Dione, Grete, and Lucien met up with Ralof and his men on the small mountain overlooking the fort. He met them on the road to lead them up to his camp, seeming a bit shaken.

"Ralof, are you okay?" Belinda asked.

"I caught a couple hours rest last night and…Dreamt of Whiterun," Ralof answered.

"Oh." Belinda knew where this would go. "Ralof, what you're feeling is normal. Only a monster would feel nothing for the people they kill. It gets easier, but no better. Take comfort in knowing they're in Sovngarde, and will arrive unhindered to Shor's Hall, that Alduin will no longer be there to devour their souls. They, like you, will be greeted as heroes."

Ralof smiled meekly and nodded. "Thank you."

"So Sovngarde is real then?" Grete asked.

"Very much so," Belinda answered. "It's so beautiful. If I could, I'd show you. But you'll just have to see it for yourself when your time comes."

They arrived at the camp where the men were watching the fort. One stood and went to Ralof. "Captain, not five minutes ago, a courier arrived," he reported.

"Imperial Courier?" Ralof asked.

"Looked like it, but the horse…" the soldier mumbled. "It was no Legion horse. The thing induced a sense of dread upon seeing it and its eyes were glowing and red."

"Shadowmere," Lucien hissed, the fur along his spine standing up. "The rider, what did he look like?" he asked the soldier.

"Uh, talking cat?" the soldier blurted, suddenly even more nervous.

Lucien growled and entered the soldier's mind. He saw the rider. No, no it couldn't be. He pulled out and looked to Belinda and Dione. "Nathiel is alive!"

"That's not possible," Dione pointed out. "We chopped him up and threw him in a river."

"On what world?" Lucien asked.

"Crap," Belinda hissed. "Why did I suggest my world?"

"Yes, why did you? Skorn resides there," Lucien pointed out. He looked to the fort. "The Stormcloaks inside the fort prison are in danger. We need a way in." He turned to Ralof. "Tell me there's another way in other than the main gate."

"Last night we found a hole in the fort in the lake," Ralof responded.

Lucien turned to Dione. "How good are you at illusions?" he asked.

"I can make myself invisible for a short time," Dione answered.

"We're going in," Lucien told her. He turned to Ralof and Belinda. "Once you hear fighting, head for the main gate. We'll make sure to have it open for you."

They nodded. Lucien and Dione cast invisibility spells on themselves and dove into the lake. They swam quickly and slipped through the hole. They entered the prison, gasping for breath, and then coughed. The air was toxic, green, sporous mist rising from the mushrooms.

"Damn, Nathiel has begun working," Lucien coughed. "We won't make it far like this."

"You have a plan though, right?" Dione asked, coughing.

"We're just going to have to push forward and hope for the best," Lucien answered. "No fire or lightning to be safe."

Breath hurt fast. They ran up through the poisonous corridor, Dione holding the Nightingale Blade. She planned to run Nathiel through, and soon they arrived in the prison. Nathiel was pacing the cells, seeing the soldiers slip into sleep, death imminent. Dione, lungs burning, charged at Nathiel, who dodged. Her blade smacked against the bars, rousing the soldier in the cell. He rasped, lungs burning. Lucien moved to the door while Dione fought Nathiel and tried to pull it open. Eyes shining teal, he practically ripped the door off the hinges. That made the poison disperse.

"Damn wench," Nathiel sneered. "I suppose it doesn't surprise me that you would try to stop me." He attacked with fungus. He made moss climb up Dione's legs and cement, trapping her in place. She tried to pull away. Nathiel drew a sword. "I'm going to enjoy this." He brought his sword up for a downward attacked. Dione brought up her sword and braced herself. Then the cell door unlocked and swung into Nathiel's attack. His right hand went limp and the left dropped the sword in shock. His hand shook violently. Dione noticed this. His body was unstable and stiff, but before she could blast him with ice, he Planeswalked. He was starting to grate her nerves.

Dione reached into her belt-pouch, pulling out clear vials of clear liquid. Medicine to clean the poison from the Stormcloak soldiers, Lucien, and herself. She had just enough for the nine of them if she administered half a vial of the curative. She downed half of one and gave Lucien the rest. The lynx rested a moment. Dione looked to the cell door that had swung open. Good timing and luck on that-. Oh! A violet-eyed shadow smiled to her. She reached out and the shadow met her hand. There was a familiar warmth, loving and kind. Father.

"Thank you," she whispered, before proceeding to work on the soldiers. She could feel her father protecting them, watching the door. Lucien looked up at the shadow.

It took an hour, but soon the soldiers were awake, on their feet, and armed. It was a meager force of sickly soldiers. Their movements would need to be quiet. Dione and her father's shadow exchanged a knowing glance. He gave her what she needed to put the odds in their favor. She summoned more shadows, the spirits of Nightingales passed. They would protect the soldiers and help them sneak through. They took out the imperial soldiers from behind, and soon went to battle outside.

Lucien quickly went to the level controlling the gate and used his telekinesis to pull it. The gate opened and Ralof, Belinda, Grete, and their small force joined the battle. Belinda charged in on Queen Alfsigr. The fierce mare reared before two soldiers and kicked them away. She slashed at an imperial to her left. Dione was quick to climb a tower and perched there. She shot at imperial soldiers and they just flopped the ground. Between the Nightingale shadows, the surprise attack, and Lucien letting the others in, the battle didn't last very long and the remaining imperials surrendered, especially when their commander was slain. Galmar arrived with the rest of his soldiers.

"Well done," he congratulated.

Belinda turned to the stables in time to see Shadowmere disappear. With a sigh, she dismounted her mare. "Thanks. Dione and Lucien did the hard work though," she pointed out. Dione was climbing down the tower. The Nightingales who had answered her call dispersed, but her father remained, disappearing into her own shadow.

"What were those?" Galmar asked.

"It's a secret," Dione answered. "Anyway, with this fort captured, Falkreath will be easy to capture."

And indeed it was…


	7. Chapter 7: Katria

_Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 30_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E202_

Falkreath was secured. Reinforcements and supplies via land from Cyrodiil were cut off and the Stormcloaks held two of the three ports into Skyrim. It would be days to weeks for reinforcements and supplies to reach Solitude's port from Anvil. Belinda, Dione, and Lucien returned to Ulfric with news of Falkreath's capture and the return of Jarl Dengeir of Stuhn to his throne. Though they confessed the man came off an annoying paranoiac. With the exception of Jarl Laila, most of the Jarls under Ulfric rubbed the trio the wrong way, and Dione's problem with Laila was simply she was an insufficient ruler.

"Jarl Korir is the worst of them," Dione grumbled.

"For his bias against Winterhold College?" Ulfric asked.

"Half of Skyrim stubbornly thinks Winterhold College is responsible for the Great Collapse," Dione answered. "The foundations of the college not only run deep, but were well-constructed, keeping it stable. The bridge into the college should be evidence enough that we did not escape the tragedy unscathed. Any geomancer with his weight in grain can say that there was far reaching aftermath from Vvardenfell's eruption and these things can take years to affect others. For Nocturnal's sake, half of Solstheim is an ashen wasteland because the damned volcano can't stop erupting long enough for the land to heal."

"That is, indeed, true," Lucien agreed, rising to all fours. "Many in Skyrim do need to also realize we do not live in an age of war and genocide against others species. Three thousand years ago, your ancestors would have laughed at the prospect of living alongside one another. Now look. A third of Windhelm is Nords, another third are Dunmer, and the rest come from all corners of Tamriel. It is simply amazing how far this world has from ideals of genocide. Perhaps mages can be respected again as well. There are plenty residing in Sovngarde after all."

Ulfric nodded. Something appeared to be bothering him. Lucien picked up on that and slipped that into Belinda's mind. She looked at him, and then to the Jarl. She saw it clearly now. "Jarl Ulfric, is something wrong?" she asked.

"Hmm? Yes; my cousin Katria," Ulfric answered. "I have not heard from her in some time. She said she was on the path of something big out in the Reach. She claimed she was certain she was finally on the road to the Aetherium Forge."

Lucien's ears perked. "Someone found it?" he asked.

"You've heard of it?" Ulfric questioned.

"Oh yes indeed," Lucien responded. "Aetherium is a solid for of Aether, condensed into a crystal. The Dwarves of this world had managed to do that seemingly impossible task and forged the finest jewels, weapons, armor, and tools for it, and even used it to fuel some of their more powerful automatons." He added to Dione and Belinda mentally, _"But never as beautiful, elegant, and sophisticated as those of Kaladesh."_ His tail wagged happily like a puppy. "To think, someone may have found out more about the Aetherium Forge!" He turned back to Ulfric. "How long ago did you last hear from her?" he asked.

"Six months ago," Ulfric answered.

"That's…Not a good thing," Lucien muttered. "Especially in the Reach where the Forsworn reside." Not to mention mountain lions and the fact there's a few Dwemer ruins there, meaning a high chance of Falmer. It's also an earthquake zone."

"It's also controlled by the empire," Ulfric pointed out. "Call me paranoid, but that's something I'm worried about."

"She is your family, so that's understandable," Belinda said, gnawing on her right thumb nail. She then turned back to Ulfric. "Did she tell you where she was going to be before she left?" she asked.

"A Dwemer ruin named Arkngthamz," Ulfric replied. "It's somewhere in the south end of the Reach."

Belinda nodded. "We'll find her."

* * *

 _Arkngthamz, the Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 6_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand_

By the time the trio reached Whiterun, Belinda was ready to scream. Since entering Whiterun Hold, they had to deal with rain, horrendous sleeping conditions, and almost got caught in a mudslide. They were muddy, exhausted, and ready for bath and bed when they arrived at the stables. Skulvar took Queen Alfsigr and Frost, and Belinda paid him well. He promised clean, refreshed horses when they left next. They went up to the city, which the Stormcloak soldiers left to hold the city in case of counter attack were helping rebuild. Sieghard was waiting for the trio in Breezehome.

"Welcome back," he greeted. "Heard you captured Falkreath."

"Falkreath was easy, and no doubt Hjaalmarch will be also," Belinda pointed out, removing her boots to be scrubbed later. "It's the Reach and Haafingar I'm worried about. I wanted to talk to you anyway."

"About?" the Nord asked.

"Well, Ulfric asked us to do a special task," Belinda answered. "Before you say anything: It has nothing to do with the war. It's a matter he wants kept quiet until we have answers. His cousin is missing and he needs to know where she is and what happened. He last heard she was in a Dwemer ruin named Arkngthamz in the Reach. Lucien is leading us there, but I would feel more comfortable if you'd accompany us. You hit the hardest of us, and we'll likely be dealing with automatons and Falmer."

"Alright, I'm in," Sieghard told her.

They spent the next day getting supplies and cleaning their gear. The rain was still not letting up though, but they had to press on anyway. The morning after, they collected their horses. Sieghard had acquired a large bay paint that was able to carry him. They took the main road, stopping in Rorikstead to leave the horses, and continued into the Reach and Lucien led the way to Arkngthamz. The rain was lighter there, but the land was unstable with raised river levels, more landslides, muddy terrain, and earthquakes. Dione was almost swept away in a mudslide, but Lucien commanded rope to pull her out. It was another day before they reached the Dwemer ruin, and they were in worst shape than they were when they had arrived in Whiterun.

The exterior was small and crumbling and a chunk of an archway had collapsed. Behind the ruin, the ground had split into a large chasm. The door hung open, one hanging by a hinge. They slipped inside to see nature was really claiming the interior. The place was naturally lit by its still new skylight and glowing mushrooms, but the ground was still unstable as earthquakes hit every few minutes. Dione started to time them, and came to a conclusion.

"This ruin is on top of a natural fault line," she told them. "Their technology was holding it together, but someone or something must have triggered it. Damned dwarves, always fucking with shit they should leave well enough alone."

"Would this be problematic for Markarth?" Sieghard asked.

"They probably only get the earthquakes every few weeks, maybe once a month," Dione answered. "It like won't be a problem for another century or so. Maybe nothing will happen, but I'd wager the frequent earthquakes that are being felt in the Reach, High Rock, Orsinium, and Hammerfell is the regions trying to compensate for a lack of them."

"That does seem probable," Belinda muttered.

"Turn back," a female voice pleaded.

The group jumped, and Belinda saw a flash of blue in the corner of her eye. "Nope! I'm out!" she exclaimed, turning on her heel. "Place is haunted! I don't do ghost! Bah-bye!"

"Seriously? This place is rocked by earthquakes and it's ghosts that spook you?" Dione asked.

"I'm with Belinda on this one," Sieghard pointed out. "Fighting undead is one thing. Ghosts are another."

"Okay, calm down you two," Lucien groaned. "Seriously, there's worse things than an angry spirit." He reached out with his magic, brushing against one spirit. "It's just one anyway, and it's not even a malicious one. Now let's be off." He padded over to a passage way and dropped down onto ledges leading downward. Sieghard and Belinda groaned and followed. Dione secured rope to a spike she hammered into the wall to make sure they would have a way back up.

The chamber they entered into was _massive_. Dwemer architecture was collapsing here and there, rivers were rushing from underground springs and pipes, nature was claiming naturally lit areas under the skylight, and Falmer scampered around in the distance. There didn't appear to be much or immediate danger to the group. Belinda then saw the blue light take the form of a tall, armored woman with long hair and a bow and arrows. She paled.

"Will you all just leave already?" the ghost demanded, getting everyone's attention.

"Lucien, is this the spirit you mentioned?" Dione asked.

The lynx nodded. "Indeed she is," he replied.

"So you do have a talking lynx," the ghost muttered. She went and knelt in front of Lucien to examine him a little more thoroughly. "Fascinating."

"You know it, sweetheart," Lucien chuckled, puffing up and looking pretentiously regal as always.

"Pfft." Belinda snickered at Lucien.

"Silence servant!" Lucien snapped.

"You're such a housecat," Belinda laughed.

"So, I assume you're here for the treasure and I can't persuade you to leave?" the ghosted asked with a sigh.

"Well, actually we're looking for Katria," Dione answered. "Her cousin sent us because-. Oh, fuck. You're Katria, aren't you? Please tell me you drank a potion that makes you look like a ghost."

"Ulfric sent you?" the ghost, Katria, asked. "I must have been died a while to have gotten his attention. I tried to count the days, but it's near impossible like this."

"What happened?" Belinda asked, still feeling nervous about talking to a ghost.

"I set off a trap that triggered the earthquakes and fell," Katria answered. "I had to find the Aetherium Forge to prove it was my discovery and theory, not that damned bastard who stole my work and published it. He probably hoped some dumb adventures would do all of the hard work for him."

"That seems to be a common trend among assholes, so what are we dealing with here?" Belinda asked.

Katria chuckled. "I take it you're the one with the sense of humor?"

"Well, someone has to be, and certainly isn't going to be these three." Belinda jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at the others. She felt their glares. "Besides, I'm kinda nervous about you, what with you being a ghosty all that what."

"Alright, I'll try not to go 'boo,'" Katria promised.

She led them to her body where they recovered her journal. She said it would help in the quest to find the Aetherium Forge. They had to fight through a swarm of Falmer, and winged Chaurus. That made Belinda pale. Drastically. She still hated bugs; hated them when they were small, hated them when they were large. She just dropped her sword and ran.

"No, no, no, no, _**NO**_!" she screamed, climbing into a hole.

A Chaurus chased her. Sieghard ran faster than the thing could fly and jumped into its path. He raised his battle axe Wuuthrad, snarling like a feral beast. A sort of fatherly instinct kicked in, made him want to protect Belinda as if she were his pup. He swung madly at the insect, cutting open its midsection. Lucien was using a very solid phantasm mallet to daze the Chaurus while Katria wielded her bow. Wild the arrows she let loose did not physically harm the creatures, they undoubtedly weakened them. The weaker ones died instantly. The stronger ones took a little long and few more hits. Dione seemed to have the best strategy: Lightning and ice. The ice made them slower and the lightning paralyzed their wings, grounding them. She grinned, and added fire to the mix. The dazzling display was perfect. After all the Chaurus were defeated, the group rested. Dione drew power from the mountains and rivers, feeling mana fill her. She was in her element. Sieghard helped Belinda out of the Falmer hole while Dione got a fire going. They were all weary from the last week. Katria promised to keep watch for as long as they slept…

* * *

 _Geralf Cecani's Lab, Innistrad_

Nathiel felt an infection spread up his right arm. It was beginning to stiffen. Without necromancy, it would not move. He sliced the arm open, seeing discoloration. He poured medicine into his arm, and winced as it burned away the infection. His body was not stable. The stitches attaching his right hand to his arm needed replacing. He had done that immediately. Geralf Cecani was an expert at such a thing. The young human man examined the damage with a critical eye.

"Who performed this surgery on you? Idiots?" he asked, annoyance in his voice. He rolled his eyes at the amateur work that was Nathiel's body, barely being held together.

"Idiots worshipping a demon, so yes," the half-elf grunted. "If I hadn't already sold my soul to the damned bastard, I'd have gone to Bolas."

"From what I understand of the Dragon, I don't think he would care either way," Geralf pointed out. "Either way, your patron's stitchers are incompetent. I was doing far superior work when I was baby."

"Just make it so I can move without expending so much power moving the dead limbs," Nathiel snarled. He held up his jaw. It wasn't cooperating.

Geralf looked at it. "Hmm, you need a wire in your jaw," he pointed out.

Nathiel growled, but then the doors flew open, and in walked another Planeswalker, Liliana Vess. Nathiel let out a stream of profanity, his irritation growing more and more every second. He then bellowed in rage and pain as his jaw was cut open. He glared at Geralf, who looked back with annoyance.

"I told you: You need a wire in your jaw to keep it from becoming unhinged completely," Geralf groaned.

Liliana watched, an amused grin on her face, as Geralf wired Nathiel's jaw. He was using copper. After that, he stitched the skin.

"Try not to move your mouth too much," Geralf ordered.

"Oh my, how the mighty have fallen," Liliana laughed, pointing at Nathiel.

"Don't you have to be a whore somewhere?" Nathiel asked.

Geralf groaned. "What did I just say?" he asked, and bound Nathiel to work on his right hand and arm. As he worked, Liliana watched, and he greeted her plainly: "To what do I owe the honor of such a powerful necromancer's visit?"

"You and your sister Gisa are the best of the best," Liliana answered. "I need an army."

"You? Need mine and my sister's help?" Geralf asked.

"Your sister has already agreed to help me," Liliana answered. "I need you to provide the best Skabs possible."

"What for?"

"We are going to attack Thraben."

"You're mad."

"Takes a madman to know a madwoman." She walked around him, hand brushing Geralf's shoulder, though he flinched away at the touch. His hands, however, didn't falter in their work. "You would be the talk of all necromancers and necroalchemists. You may even draw the attention of those you admire most?" She was playing to his ego, and his desires. "Maybe even the attention of Ludevic?" While half of his brain focused on stitching Nathiel's body, Geralf was listening. Liliana knew this and continued. "Just think, maybe he might even take you as his apprentice?"

"Why attack Thraben though?" Geralf asked, now planting a copper rod in Nathiel's arm.

"My reasons are my own," Liliana answered. "I'll return for your response. In the meantime, I may have led an unwanted guest here. I'll need to draw his attention elsewhere. See you soon?"

"My door is open," Geralf answered, never once taking his focus away from his work.

Liliana smiled, knowing she had ensnared Geralf in her schemes. Nathiel looked to the necroalchemists and called him out on what he just did. "She's after the demon Griselbrand, and I know for a fact he's trapped in the Helvault."

"So she wants to walk in and free him?" Geralf asked. "Not my concern, honestly." He began stitching Nathiel up.

"It will be a grave concern when I inform you what else is in the Helvault: Two somethings. One something is one that _should_ remain locked away and the other thing is something you _want_ to remain locked away." He had noticed his nails had been replaced with thin copper plates.

Geralf wrapped Nathiel's arm up and then out clamps over the nails. He gave Nathiel a shock, and the half-elf shouted in pain. His dead hand was now more animated. The movements were no longer stiff. He grinned.

"This will do nicely," he pointed out, and left money for Geralf. Now he needed to focus on healing, and would be ready to go…


	8. Chapter 8: The Dangerous Reach

_Arkngthamz, the Reach  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 7_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

Lucien was the first to awake, stretching with a yawn and scratching up the ground. He shook himself used his telekinesis to place his hooded cloak on. Katria watched with interest. She had never seen a being quite like Lucien before. Dione awoke next. She had sat at the base of a fallen pillar and had laid against it, keeping her bow close. She stood and slid her quiver over her shoulders. Sieghard was third to wake, taking a moment to pop his back and put his armor back on. Belinda was last, grumbling that it was still too early for her. She unbundled her fur-lined vest and put it on. She cracked her fingers and grabbed her pack. Katria led the stiff, tired group up through the ruins, and to chasm with a fallen tree hanging over the ledge. There, caught in the branches, was a bow.

"My bow!" Katria exclaimed. "I was wondering what happened to it."

Lucien used his telekinesis to bring the bow over. "This little beauty is enchanted," he commented.

"Yeah, it's supposed to draw fast and easy," Katria explained. "Even an amateur archer with no arm strength could use it."

"Just imagine that in the hands of an expert," Sieghard muttered.

"Anyone want a bow?" Katria asked.

"I'll take it; my wife is quite the archer," Sieghard answered. "She'll love it."

Lucien passed it to Sieghard and they proceeded. All day long, it was shooting fancy locks to open doors, dodging traps, and fighting Falmer, Dwarven Automatons, and Chaurus. Thankfully the wingless ones. Belinda still either ran or grabbed a Dwarven warhammer and smashed them to little bits. Finally, they arrived at a fancy puzzle where they had to hit the correct "resonators" as Katria called them to open the doors to the treasure: The key to the Aetherium Forge. The rest of the key was scattered in Dwemer ruins across Skyrim, and if they hit the wrong resonators, there would be traps, earthquakes, waking up automatons from nearby, and maybe a few overpowered fireballs getting launched at their faces.

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the Tamrielic Dwarves as a people?" Belinda asked.

"You're not the only one," Dione replied.

"My journal should still have my notes on the first two," Katria told them.

Dione opened the journal and flipped to the "Tonal Lock". "Okay, the first on is on our bottom left and the second is on the bottom right," she reported. She closed the journal and took out her bow and iron tipped arrows. The first two were successful. "That worked, but the rest…"

Katria was kneeling beside the body of a dead adventure, who was likely the reason the chamber smelt bad. "Maybe he had a clue?" she suggested.

Belinda sighed and went over. She check the various pockets and pouches on the fur and hide armor. She found money, a few gems, lockpicks, some potions, spell scrolls, a copy of "The Aetherium Wars", and a scrap of paper torn from the back of the book. She unfolded the paper and looked at the contents. It showed which resonator was the second and which was third. She stood and turned to the others.

"Dione, upper left hand," she announced.

Dione nodded and drew an iron arrow. She launched it at the resonator Belinda told her and it worked. Now they had to figure out four and five. She looked back to the Dragonborn. "And the others?" she asked.

"That's all there was," Belinda replied. She strode over and looked up at the resonators. "Huh, this is painfully easy I think."

"Very painfully easy," Lucien confirmed. "Upper right and then the bottom center."

"Guess the Dwarves were dumber than people give them credit for," Dione sighed, and fire two more arrows. The resonators went up, sounding their music, and the doors swung open.

They ran inside and to the key fragment. It was a soft blue crystal that shone softly. It radiated with power. Belinda only need to brush her fingers across the smooth, perfect surface to feel the intense power it gave off, to feel the familiarity of raw Aether refined and solidified into a brilliant crystal. It something like this was possible, then Aetherborn might have existed long ago on Tamriel, a byproduct of Aether refinement. Katria came and looked.

"Aetherium! Real Aetherium!" she exclaimed. She examined it closer. "Hmm…Look at the ends. They looked like they were cut." The group took a look. Katria was right. It was a fourth of a larger piece. "A key made of pure Aetherium…" Katria was excited, feeling close to alive again. "Three more pieces though…" She was thoughtful. "One for each of the great Dwarven cities that built the forge. My journal has a map, and each of the cities is marked."

Dione took out Katria's journal again and flipped it open to the map. "There's five locations listed here," she pointed out.

Katria looked at the map. "The nearest one is Bthar-zel. It has a different name now."

Sieghard looked. "Deep Folk Crossing," he confirmed. "Just on the border with High Rock. Breton merchants used it for entering Skyrim. The road will take us across the Reach. We'll be entering Imperial territory."

"Then we'll report into the Stormcloak camp on the way there," Belinda pointed out. "It's a few days northeast of here."

"I'll meet you at Deep Folk Crossing when you're done then," Katria informed them. "I'll see you later." She vanished.

Sieghard looked to Belinda, Dione, and Lucien. "You know I can't get involved."

"We know," Belinda replied. "So meet Katria at Deep Folk Crossing and get the Aetherium key shard and then meet us in Whiterun after."

Dione was still looking at the map. "Actually, I'm going to take a rain check on helping to liberate the Reach myself," she pointed out, getting everyone's attention. "One of the locations marked is the ruins of Mzulft. I'm gonna head there and retrieve the shard. The last location is Raldbthar. I'll meet you guys there after I get the shard from Mzulft." She looked at them. "Does that sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a plan," Belinda replied. "Do you want Lucien to go with you?" she asked.

"No; I can get one of the guys over in Riften to help with retrieving the shard," Dione answered.

* * *

 _Stormcloak Camp, the Reach  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 10_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

They then departed the ruins and made the perilous trek back to Rorikstead to retrieve their horses. Dione then departed for the Rift. Belinda, Lucien, and Sieghard rode to the Stormcloak Camp located in the Reach. Galmar was already there, with him, Ralof, and Grete looking over the map. Sieghard bid Belinda and Lucien farewell and departed to the northern ends of the Reach. Belinda and Lucien entered the command tent. They looked up to Belinda upon her entering.

"Well, what have you to report on Katria?" Galmar asked.

"She's dead," Belinda answered. "An earthquake opened the ground and she fell. Her spirit is restless though. She's not going to Aetherius until she's found the Aetherium Forge."

"She always was stubborn," Galmar sighed. "Where's Dione?"

"She went to the Dwarven ruins of Mzulft in the Rift to help Katria recover the key fragment to the forge," Belinda explained. "She apparently knows the ruins quite well and can help find it."

"Damn, I was hoping to have her help with this," Galmar grumbled.

Lucien came up. "If you needed Dione specifically, then perhaps it is something I can accomplish," he pointed out.

"Perhaps," Galmar grunted. "How do you feel about blackmail?"

"You're seriously asking someone capable of reading your mind how he feels about blackmail?" Lucien asked. "I'm not above blackmail, but no one ever takes the cat seriously. I can acquire what is needed. Belinda will have to make the threat, if we need to."

"Oh yeah, because a 17-year-old is so intimidating," Belinda muttered.

Grete snorted, trying to stifle her laughter.

"I will make you intimidating," Lucien assured. "Just leave the fancy work to me." He turned to Galmar and asked, "Who are we blackmailing and what do we already know?"

"Raerek of Markarth is secretly a Talos worshipper," Galmar answered. "We need proof of this to blackmail him into aiding the cause. He's Jarl Igmund's uncle and steward, so he's bound to have information. You can usually find him at Understone Keep. He frequents the local tavern, so you might be able to confront him there."

"I can read him from across the room," Lucien pointed out.

"We'll get the info," Belinda promised.

"I'm counting on you," Galmar told them.

* * *

 _Markarth, the Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 12_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

It was well after midnight when they arrived at Markarth, exhausted and sleep-deprived. The city gates were closed, so there would be no getting in until dawn. Belinda and Lucien bedded down with the Khajiit merchants camped outside the city. Ri'saad welcomed the pair, and spent an hour in deep discussion with Lucien before both went to sleep. Belinda was already out and sound asleep. When they awoke a mere six hours later, Belinda led Queen Alfsigr to the stables before she and Lucien entered the city.

Markarth was a massive city of stone and brass, built and carved from an ancient Dwemer city. Some part of Lucien was reminded, almost, of Thorin's Hall, long ago. He dismissed the memories from his mind. Belinda looked to him.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Just a few old memories," he answered. "Still cannot believe how old I am. I should have died so long ago."

"I'm actually really glad you didn't," Belinda pointed out. "You've been a good friend and helpful throughout this journey. Even though you're a pretentious, puffed up, arrogant, ass."

"And don't you forget it," Lucien hissed.

Belinda smiled. Once they reached the keep, she felt Lucien place illusions over them and opened the large, brass doors with telekinesis. They slipped in unnoticed and went to the throne room. Raerek sat on his stone chair beside Jarl Igmund. He had a table before him with several sheets of parchment, an inkwell, and a quill in front of him. He was doing work, occasionally talking to his nephew. A few hunting dogs lay at Igmund's feet and a Redguard woman in steel plate stood by Igmund, tense and ready for battle.

Lucien reached out to Raerek with a tendril of teal magic. It touched the old Nord's mind, pulling what was needed. Lucien found that Raerek kept a special amulet of Talos locked in his nightstand in his room, and that there was Thalmor Justiciars in the keep. Lucien filed that away under blackmail. The next part was interesting: A shipment of coin and ingots would be leaving Markarth in a week, headed for Solitude. This would undoubtedly benefit the Stormcloaks. He pulled away and spoke to Belinda telepathically.

" _There's a shipment of coin and ingots leaving Markarth on the 17_ _th_ _of this month,"_ he reported. _"The shipment is heading to Solitude via imperial caravan, meaning lots of heavy types armed to the tooth."_

" _Plenty of time to report back and then set up an ambush,"_ Belinda stated.

* * *

 _The Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 18_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

Upon returning, they told them about the caravan leaving in a few days. Belinda, Lucien, Ralof, Grete, and about three others were sent out to set up an ambush along the main road. They found a quiet spot on the road where they would have the advantage of higher ground and loose boulders. At least it wasn't raining. Belinda loved the rain, but when it dragged on and caused a few near death experiences, she was sick of it. She leaned against a boulder, mud smeared across her face and wearing a poncho of leaves and sticks. She was currently watching the road. She was muddy and soaked to the bone. She couldn't wait to get a hot bath and clean clothes back home in Whiterun. Some of the people there hadn't quite forgiven her for turning against Jarl Balgruuf. She hadn't forgiven herself either.

"Lost in thought?" Lucien asked, sitting beside her. He had left his cloak and packs back at the nearby camp so as to blend in with his surroundings. Like Belinda, he too was muddy and wanting a bath. That thought brought a smile to Belinda's face. A cat who liked baths! It wasn't unheard of. Tigers liked water.

"Just thinking about a hot bath, clean clothes, and a cooked meal from the Bannered Mare," Belinda answered. "And maybe a deep tissue massage as well. I know this great place on Ravnica's Ovitza District that does really good massages…" She laid her head back against the boulder. Lucien watched for the caravan. "Lucien, do you like being a Planeswalker?" Belinda asked. She was curious about the lynx's disposition to what the Blind Eternities had given him.

"I do, actually," Lucien answered. "While I do occasionally wish to pass or become apathetic, I am grateful for what I have been gifted with." His tailed curled up over his front paws. "I have always been studious and sought adventure. My Spark granted me a long life to study and the ability to travel. I have a whole library of journals back home. I will be adding another at the end of this year." Suddenly, his ears flattened. "10, 257 journals, one for every year since I learned to read and write. 10,250 years longer than I should have lived. I have seen so much. Friends come and gone, students who rose to greatness, my mother and sister turned to dust, and whole worlds born and whole worlds die." He laid down. "I envy you. You will not have to see 10,000 years of history pass before you, keep enough journals to fill four walls from floor to ceiling and sighing in dismay as you have to now build bookcases in the middle of room just to fit more, and you will not have to watch as helpless mortals die screaming with their world."

"I'm a lot more grateful I came after the Mending," Belinda sighed, turning her eyes back to the road. "Sometimes, I don't know whether I love my gift or hate it. I love it because I can see things a hundred times my size, live the life I want to live, to be free. But I also hate it because I have to adult. Adulting sucks. It means being responsible for every little thing you do. I also hate it because I can't tell people about it, to give them an unrealistic hope that there really is a better, more fulfilling life out there."

Lucien nodded. "We really are tragedies," he sighed. His ears then stood, hearing the sounds of armored feet, hooves, and wheels turning. He stood, fur rising. Belinda inched a little closer to see. The caravan came out from around the bend in the road.

"Alert the others; the targets are here," Belinda ordered.

Lucien nodded and darted back to the camp. Everyone was muddy, grouchy, and one man was asleep. Grete woke him and everyone got their weapons. Belinda had her bow out, a steel-tipped arrow notched to the bowstring. She aimed for the driver as the others joined her. She eased her bow, aiming for where the driver would be in a moment. The air stilled. Good. Once certain, she released the arrow and it zipped in a straight line to the driver of the wagon. The man cried out as the arrow punctured the collar of his leather vest and pierced his neck. He slumped over and the steel-clad legionnaires drew their swords and shields. The large bay horse stopped, snorting and pawing the ground. Lucien used a spell to calm the horse and keep it still.

The Stormcloaks struck then, coming down with their maces, axes, and swords. Lucien used an illusion to make it seem like there were more. The imperials went after the illusion, except for one who engaged an actual Stormcloak soldier. The soldier was better armed and had superior armor. The Stormcloak didn't stand a chance. But Grete ran the imperial through, and kicked him off her blade. The rest went down easily thanks to Lucien's illusion.

"Now we'll just take this shipment to Windhelm instead of Solitude," Ralof pointed out.

"That's the plan," Belinda responded. "We should clear the bodies off the road and into the brush and burn them." She, Grete, Ralof, and the remaining soldiers moved the bodies off the road and laid them side by side. Belinda uttered a few prayers and used a few fire spells to burn the bodies. Lucien conjured a mist to hide the smoke. They returned to camp.

* * *

 _Fort Sungard, the Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 23_ _rd_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

 _Cleaner. Not one hundred percent. But cleaner,_ Belinda thought almost a week later. She now stood outside Fort Sungard. There would be no getting in from their position. The fort was on high ground and could be defended with a few men. The Imperials had the advantage. Or so they thought. After getting out of sight, she looked to the sky. Not far from where she stood now, she could see a dragon soaring over the mountains of the Reach. She smiled, raised her head, parted her lips into an O, and became her Shout: "Od…AH-VIING!"

A gale left her mouth, and the words of power echoed on the wind. Wherever the red dragon was, he would hear his name and come to the source. On his wings, he was maybe an hour away from Belinda. His large, red form soon flew overhead. When he saw Belinda, he grinned and veered sharply. He fanned out his wings to slow his descent and landed. The ground shook under his powerful legs. Belinda took out her keychain of gems and drew on Pyromancy from the carnelian so as to make herself immune to fire.

"Yol-TOOR-SHUL!" Odahviing Shouted, bathing Belinda, who responded in kind, all part of a tradition. The eldest spoke first. The youngest second. "Drem yol lok, Thuri," the red dragon greeted, grinning. While he and most dragons ruled themselves, he viewed the Dragonborn worthy of calling her his lady.

"Drem yol lok, Odahviing," Belinda responded.

"What do you need?" Odahviing asked.

"That fort there attacked," Belinda replied. "The soldiers down there are equipped to fight Stormcloak rebels. They will not expect a dragon attack late in the night."

"You hope?" Odahviing chuckled.

"Just get in there after midnight," Belinda ordered. "After midnight, the night guard will be tired and grumpy. Mistakes happen. The rest of the soldiers will have to scramble to get out of bed. And when they start to come out, leave." She looked at him. "Will you carry me into the fortress? I need to open the gates for the other soldiers."

Odahviing nodded. "I will carry you."

They waited until roughly three in the morning when the night guard would be at its most exhausted and coldest. Belinda climbed onto Odahviing, lying low on his back and securing herself with a leather harness to one of his ridges. The dragon took flight and the Dragonborn held tight. She could feel their ascent and focused on the stars above. The sky was a radiant display of a billion stars against a deep blue background and swirling auroras in bright pinks, green, teals, and violets. Then they dropped, Odahviing making a nosedive to Fort Sungard. The air rushed past them, howling. Belinda was deafened by it. Reality seemed to be shifting, almost like…

 _Am I 'walking?_ Belinda asked herself. She focused on the here and now, trying to maintain her form. She checked her hand. It was shimmering and fading. She focused on staying whole.

"YOL-TOOR-SHUL!" Odahviing Shouted, breathing fire upon the fort. They he jerked up, the sudden shift jarring Belinda and she fell through him. She fell through the ground, and saw dirt, stone, and alloy around her. She gently drifted back up. She hadn't used Ethereal Form, had she? She stood, seeing soldiers panicking and struggling, saw Odahviing knock over one of the towers. Three men shouted as they were buried. Belinda winced. She looked down at herself, scarcely believing she wasn't physical. She didn't remember Shouting! What happened?!

She looked to the soldier cowering and wondered…She walked up and touched him. He jumped and looked at her, eyes widening. She smiled softly and put a finger to her lips. Then she threw herself into him and took control. It was easy, as the man hadn't been sleeping well and had been paranoid lately. Once in control, no one stopped her from getting to the lever that controlled the gate. She pulled it, looking out to see the Stormcloaks running up. Soldiers, still half-asleep and few half-dressed came running out. Odahviing saw this and left. Belinda managed to exit the body of the man she had possessed and watched the battle unfold. She wasn't sure she could actually help. Many of the imperial soldiers surrendered, too tired for battle. They were taken prisoner to be held until after the war was over. Lucien, Ralof, Galmar, and Grete came and found Belinda sitting, still incorporeal.

"Dragonborn?! You're dead?!" Galmar exclaimed

"I-. I don't know!" Belinda responded. "I think I might have used to Ethereal Form or something, but it should have worn off by now!"

"I'm a little surprised this didn't happen sooner," Lucien commented.

"You knew this would happen?!" Belinda snapped.

"Yes, though I did expect it a little sooner," Lucien replied. "This is part of your talent."

"Cat…" Belinda growled.

"Just relax and focus on solid stuff," Lucien told her. "Feel yourself grounding."

Belinda closed her eyes and took deep breaths, picturing the rolling plains of Whiterun, the towering mountains that surrounded them. Earth. Slow, she felt her body again: Physical and solid and squishy. She opened her eyes and sighed in relief. She looked at Lucien.

"What the Hell even was that?" she demanded.

"Your Astralamancy is growing stronger," Lucien answered. "As it does, your range increases and you can you can make yourself incorporeal. There are others who can make themselves incorporeal without Astralamancy, but that is a different and altogether unique gift of its own. Eventually, you should be able to reach the leylines of the land itself to pull on the talents of others. In the meantime, it's time for you to have something. He pulled from something from his pack: A keyring with gemstone keychains. He passed it to Belinda. She felt the magic in them, but they were just plain magic. Whatever secrets the gems and crystals held were long gone. "You can use the crystals to store magical talents in them. It's a great backup for when you're stranded. Certain gems hold certain talents longer, but they will eventually fade and just leave regular mana."

Belinda looked at them. A carnelian still had a little bit of a pyromancer in it. She touched the stone and felt a heatwave wash over her, filling her with magic. She easily conjured flame to her hand and even felt the ends of her hair sparking and flaming. She could work with this. Just needed to refill the gems.

"We're stopping in Whiterun, right?" she asked.

"That was the plan," Lucien answered.

"A good opportunity to get healing in," Belinda stated.

"Excellent."


	9. Chapter 9: Mourning Never Comes

_Deep Folk Crossing, the Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 14_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

Sieghard arrived at Deep Folk Crossing. Katria was already there waiting. After some digging around, they found the key shard. Sieghard put it in his pack, just as some mercenaries showed up, armed to the tooth. Their weapons were made of silver and their steel plate armor bore red handprints on the breastplates. The Silver Hand. Sieghard snarled, lips curling. He thought he was done with these bastards, but they didn't know how to lie down and die. He knew the story of how they came about. The first of the Silver Hand were members of the Companions, of the inner circle. They denied the beast blood and refused to acknowledge Terrfyg as Harbinger for turning the Companions to the beast blood. They became werewolf hunters, dedicated to eliminating the "false Companions", but the Silver Hand had since become dishonorable, torturing werebeasts for pleasure. How was _that_ honor? Sieghard set his pack on the ground and drew Wuuthrad. Katria saw this and drew her bow.

"Well, well; looks like we got ourselves the Harbinger himself," sneered one of the Silver Hand.

"Bet we can get him to transform," a woman giggled sadistically.

Sieghard's eyes turned yellow-gold, burning with a fierce fire. His growls were more feral, more animal now. The Silver Hand started closing in with their silver weapons. Sieghard felt a sense of déjà vu as they came closer. A year, he stood behind a barred gate while Farkas was circled by these same monsters. Just like then, these bastards would not live to tell the tail. Suddenly, the beast took over and Sieghard saw the world in blood.

* * *

 _Mzulft, the Rift Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 16_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand_

It was just Dione and Karliah. Brynjolf was away in Solitude for a job. This was sort of perfect. It gave Dione a chance to talk to her birth mother one on one. They left Frost at the Riften stables and went to Mzulft on foot. She looked over to the older Dunmer, noting their differences. Dione was taller than her mom, but they had the same slander frame and were both flat-chested. Karliah's face was sharper with a pointed chin and longer ears that her daughter. Her skin was a darker blue-grey and her shoulder length hair was a dark chestnut color. They rectangular-shaped eyes were the same lilac color. Dione always wondered why she and her mother had lilac eyes and why she had white hair while her mother had an unusual brown. Most Dunmer had white, red, or black hair. Never brown.

"So, I was thinking about something a while ago," she started.

"Hmm?" Karliah looked to her daughter. Sometimes, she could scarcely believe this was the baby she had been forced to give up over 25 years ago.

"I want you to meet my mothers," Dione finally said after being silent a moment.

"Your mothers?" Karliah asked. Enthir had promised her that Dione would be given to a loving family. Dione hadn't really mentioned them since they met. _She hasn't mentioned them at all to me,_ she thought. Dione had said mothers. Had there been no father to raise her? "No father?" Karliah asked. She admitted, it seemed a little unorthodox.

"Closest I got to father was Ma," Dione answered. "She worked the forge and made weapons and armor for Mother to sell."

Karliah nodded. "But you were given to a good family, right?" she asked.

"Yes; I was," Dione replied. "Well off, good people, never went to bed without dinner, got an education, and pretty dresses."

"Good," Karliah sighed. "So, you want me to meet them?"

"Yes."

Karliah thought on it. She had never asked Enthir about Dione's family. All she cared about was that Dione had a good family, a promise Enthir fulfilled. Her daughter was a strong, independent, intelligent, resourceful young lady with strong morals. She knew stealing was wrong, but it was in her blood and she had found a way to incorporate morals into that. Those very morals were the ones Karliah had been raised on. Those morals were what Gallus held dear. She knew Gallus was proud of their daughter. She was too.

"I'd love to meet your mothers," she told Dione.

The young Dunmer smiled. They arrived in Mzulft's exterior ruins. They started with the store room and found Katria there, standing in front of a barred, brass gate. Karliah tensed. Dione went over.

"Katria? Is that you?" she asked.

The ghost turned. "Yeah, it's me," she answered. "Also, you could have warned me your friend Sieghard is a werewolf."

"It didn't seem relevant…Did something happen?"

"Some lunatics came at him with silver weapons. They had red handprints on their breastplates."

"The Silver Hand. Damn bastards."

"At least Sieghard got the key shard and is on his way back to Whiterun," Katria pointed out. She turned back to the gate. "Now if only could get this damn door open!"

"You're a ghost. Walk through it!" Dione reminded her.

"Oh, right." Katria walked through the door.

Dione got out her lockpicks and unlocked the door. They three delved deeper into the storeroom until they saw the blue glow of the Aetherium key shard they needed. Dione picked it up, feeling the power coursing through her. After millennia, the artifact still shone and radiated power. She slipped it into her pack. It was surprisingly light.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," she said.

"We still have to go to Raldbthar," Katria pointed out.

"Crap," Dione mumbled.

"So, what is the final product of this?" Karliah asked.

"Well, Katria here was on the road to the finding this thing called the Aetherium Forge which can stuff out of Aetherium crystal like what we came here to get," Dione answered. "Of course, for all we know, this is the last Aetherium crystal in Tamriel."

"Raldbthar is supposedly the mine for Aetherium," Katria pointed out. "Maybe we'll find raw Aetherium there."

Dione shrugged.

* * *

 _Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 25_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

Dione entered Jorrvaskr, soaked to the bone from the heavy rainfall that had assaulted her on the ride to Whiterun from Riften. Everyone looked at her. Belinda got up to get Dione close to the large firepit in the middle of the mead hall. The Dunmer shed her drenched riding cloak and hung it near the fire to dry. Tilma brought her towels and guided her down to a hot bath and new clothes. Belinda and Sieghard set the three Aetherium shards together on the long table. The shards fused together, the crystal stronger than before. Everyone watched in awe. It had been well over a thousand years since anyone had seen Aetherium in Tamriel.

"Just one more piece and we can unlock the forge," Belinda said with a smile. Aela had braided her hair, weaving three strands on each side of her head and then weaving that and the rest of her hair into an elegant braid. Of course, her fluffy bangs had been left alone to cover her forehead and hang in her eyes. Still, she looked like a Nord. A Nord that Vilkas felt attracted to.

The beast in Vilkas stirred at being so close to her, but he willed it down. Belinda was still basically a child. Hell, Sieghard only let her drink in moderation and under his supervision. The blond Nord was starting to treat the young Dragonborn like his child or something. May as, seeing as how Belinda didn't seem to have any positive father figures in her life. Her birth father walked out and her stepfather was an ass. So, Sieghard hoped to be the father she really needed. He was a good role model: Courteous to those who deserved it, ignored the rest, defended the weak, loved children, and was a skilled and respected warrior. He had crafted the furniture in Belinda's house and helped fix it up, especially after the roof caught fire when the Stormcloaks attacked Whiterun. He even bought her the horse she wanted and didn't charge her for his aid in her adventures.

"It's beautiful," Aela commented.

Dione returned clean and in fresh clothes. Vilkas flinched away from her. After all these years, he still didn't trust mages, and he knew the Dunmer was a very powerful one. She went to look at the key shards.

"Can you believe it? Real Aetherium," she sighed. "This stuff hasn't been seen by anyone in thousands of years, and we're about to leave for the place it was supposedly mined from."

" _On Kaladesh, it flows through the sky,"_ Lucien told her and Belinda telepathically, _"and the rivers and rolling hills. It touches everything, fauna and flora alike and can even have crystal forms."_

" _Extraordinary,"_ Dione's thought sighed.

Belinda went to grab some food, hunger kicking it. There was a serving dish of roasted pheasants that Aela managed to hunt. She tripped and Vilkas caught her quickly. "Careful, little sister," he said to her.

"Little sister, am I?" Belinda asked, smiling. "I'm not even a Companion."

"Guess that means I like you enough," Vilkas responded. He let her get more food, and watched her pile some on her plate. She took a slab of pheasant breast and a scoop of mashed potatoes, grabbed a biscuit that she broke in half and coated with honey, and then aimed for a scoop of steamed broccoli, something Vilkas knew his twin would never eat. Of course, Vilkas knew it was good for you. He got her a small mug of mead.

"You know Sieghard won't like it that you're letting me drink, right?" Belinda asked.

"It's only one mug of mead and we're all here to make sure you don't drink too much," Vilkas answered. "And if you're worried, I'll walk you home."

"You do realize I live with Lucien and Dione usually stays at my place, right?" Belinda asked. "My cute, fluffy kitty will get me home safe and sound and Dione will make sure no one tries to rob me blind." She took a swig of her mead. "Mm, this is good, and there seems to be a taste of pears!"

"I remember you like pears," Vilkas pointed out. "So I went and bought another barrel and took it to Farkas to see if he could make mead with them. This batch finished last week and I brought a keg up."

"Thank you Vilkas," Belinda said. Over the month between her defeating Alduin and running off to join the Stormcloaks, she and Vilkas had gotten to know each other better. He didn't care for magic or mages because of a bad incident with some necromancers when he and Farkas were pups and he learned she was a mage of a talent that shouldn't even exist and how it always frustrated her. He realized that maybe mages don't have it so great after all. After all, they had to spend years of studying learning to control their talents and could still lose control of their magic.

"So, are you, Dione, Lucien, and Sieghard leaving tomorrow?" Vilkas asked.

"No. We agreed to let Dione have a day of rest. She looks like she needs it," Belinda answered.

Vilkas looked over to the lilac-eyed Dark Elf. She was exhausted and looked ready to collapse onto a warm, soft bed. Lucien had vanished, but the lynx tended to blend in with his surroundings as it pleased him. It seemed most likely he was getting himself a bowl of mead. Hopefully not the pear mead Vilkas had commissioned for Belinda. Dione helped herself to some food and tiredly plopped into a chair to eat in silence. After a while, half the Companions started singing and boasting. Torvar made up some bull about single-handedly felling a giant, which made Farkas grimace. The memory of being smacked into a wall by a giant still lingered. Ria saw this and smacked Torvar on the head.

"Ow! What was that for?!" the already intoxicated Nord demanded. They bickered for a time before Torvar huffed and sat back. Finally, his eyes shifted to Belinda, who was content to eat, drink, and listened. He grinned and stood, raising a mug. "DRAGONBORN'S TURN!" he shouted.

Belinda paled, eyes wide. She looked at Torvar with a look of horror. She was not a big public speaker. "Um, no thank you," she muttered, going back to her meal. Besides, she wasn't drunk enough to talk about her feats, but that drunk wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"C'mon! The great and powerful Dragonborn! Slayer of Alduin, Hero of Skyrim! You have got to have some damn good stories! Tell us about fighting Alduin!" Torvar went on and on, making Belinda even more uncomfortable. Sieghard and Aela tried handling it calmly. Vilkas got up and punched Torvar in the face.

"She doesn't want to talk about it!" he snapped. "Now leave her alone!"

"Ow! Okay-ow-sorry!" Torvar whimpered, nursing a broken nose. He slinked back, going to get his nose taken care of.

Vilkas sat back down next to Belinda. She turned to him and said, "Thanks, Big Brother."

"Any time."

After things quieted down, Belinda and Dione walked back to Breezehome. They entered to find a strong fire going and Lydia and Lucien both asleep. They retired for the night…

* * *

 _Markarth, the Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 26_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

It was after midnight when Muiri returned The Hag's Cure. It had been a year since she arrived in Markarth, since she had been forced to leave Windhelm. Once upon a time, she was best friends with a Nord named Nilsine and her sister Friga. A year ago, Friga was horrifically murdered, and Muiri sought comfort in the arms of a man, a man who used her to get close to her friends' family: The Shatter-Shields. The remaining members of the clan blamed her and forced her to leave Windhelm and everything she loved behind while the mysterious man ran off with Aegisbane, a powerful warhammer belonging to the Shatter-Shields. Since her arrival, Muiri had grown bitter and resentful. She lived in a city where Bretons were treated poorly all thanks to the stupid Forsworn who lived in the hills. Her mentor Bothela was usually asleep by midnight, so when Muiri entered the alchemy shop, she was surprised to see the fire still going strong and a hooded and cloaked figure was sitting in front of it.

"Who are you?" she asked, reaching for a knife.

"You summoned me, did you not?" the hooded figure asked. "Have a seat. I'm here to talk business with you."

"Wait, are you from the Dark Brotherhood?" Muiri asked. She had performed the Black Sacrament, but she was certain no one would ever come. Now, at long last, someone was here for her contract. She moved to the fireplace and sat in the chair next to the assassin.

"I am," the assassin answered. "A thousand pardons on how long it took to get our attention. Our organization is rebuilding. The Great War's damages were far more than just no longer worshipping a few idols." The smell of blood, rot, and death came from him. His left fingertip were stained. He was an alchemist.

Muiri nodded. "I guess you wish to know who I want dead."

"I do."

"There are two people, honestly, but you don't have to kill the second person," she explained. She told her story of how the man Alain Dufont tricked her into getting him close to the Shatter-Shields so he could steal their legendary warhammer and then dumped her, running off with the weapon. This was followed by how the Shatter-Shields treated her. She started sobbing. The assassin was courteous and handed her an old handkerchief that smelt of lavender and was stained with many different colors from various plants over the years. "I want Alain and Nilsine dead," she sobbed.

"It shall be done," the assassin assured her. "I will return to you when I have slain them."

Muiri nodded. "Thank you."

Nathiel rose, and left her there. She was a fetching girl, and if things had been different, he might have done more to comfort her. But 1,500 years, demonic pacts, and now a half-life-half-death kept him from indulgence. He remembered his youth, when he would enjoy the company of beautiful woman in the Crystal City between his hours of study of alchemy and various plants. Now he was doing more than just growing plants and making potions. He was rotting plants, growing fungi, and mixing poisons.

He went down to the stables where Shadowmere waited. They looked to him, and spoke in an echoing voice that was sinister male and seductive female. _"What is the contract?"_ they asked.

"A man named Alain Dufont and a woman named Nilsine Shatter-Shield," Nathiel asked, mounting. "I know where the Shatter-Shields reside. We'll deal with them later. Alain Dufont is leader of a group of bandits in the Dwemer ruins of Raldbthar. How fast can we get there?"

Shadowmere physically snorted, but mentally chuckled. _"We'll be there in three days, maybe less. How much sleep do you need?"_

"None."

* * *

 _Raldbthar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 30_ _th_ _of Rain's Hand, 4E202_

Bodies lay strewn about, some in pieces and others with various forms of flora and fungus growing on them. Blood soaked the snow, already a day old. Lucien knew at once what had transpired. Nathiel was here. Did he find out they were after Aetherium Forge and was here for the Aetherium key shard?! Lucien quickly reached out with his mind, looking for Shadowmere's mind. He needed to know whether or not Nathiel was still in the area or not. He didn't find the horse. He started sniffing around for Nathiel and Shadowmere, earning raised brows from Belinda, Dione, and Sieghard. They didn't yet know the danger that may lay within.

"Lucien, what's wrong?" Dione asked.

"Nathiel has been here," Lucien replied. "I don't sense Shadowmere nearby. Their scent is too old at this point." He looked around. "I'm worried Nathiel may still be around. He did this."

"Let's get inside and see for ourselves," Belinda said, drawing Dragonbane.

They entered the ruins, the doors ajar. Icy air whipped in, turning the puddles of blood to ice. They proceeded ahead with caution, finding more bodies with sickly green skin. The air was heavy with poison. Sieghard growled, eyes flashing yellow. That's when Katria ran up to them. She actually looked horrified.

"Follow me, quick," she told them. "There's less poison further in!"

They did as she told, following her at a fast pace to get away from the poison. Lucien handled it well, as did Dione. Belinda was getting winded, so Sieghard carried her over his shoulder. Once they were clear of the poisonous air, he set her down and Dione passed around medicine to help the burning in their lungs. Her mother had made sure to give her more potions to deal with fungal poison.

"What happened here?" Dione asked.

"An assassin came charging in," Katria answered. "He threw seeds and spores at people and grew horrific plants. Those who didn't get ripped to shreds by his magic died suffocating from the poison in the air, all accept one. The leader, Alain Dufont, was his mark. It was all horrible and disgusting. Then he took the warhammer and left, muttering something about some girl named Nilsine in Windhelm."

"I'm going to Windhelm," Sieghard snarled. He removed his gear and shifted into his beast form. He grabbed his bag of belongings and took off.

"Will we make it through the ruins without him?" Katria asked.

"We'll have to," Dione replied. She got out a bow. "Let's go. We have a long walk ahead of us…"


	10. Chapter 10: Lost to the Ages

_Raldbthar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 1_ _st_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

The hallway after the first area was fine. The doors had kept the poison out. The next room a malfunctioning Dwarven spider and two spheres. After that, they had to inch along a wall going up a flight of stairs to avoid being chopped up into pieces by spinning blades. The next chamber had three level, a fire trap, and three Dwarven spheres. The automatons morphed out of them. Thankfully, they found the lift that would take them to where they needed to go, and that was the Deep Market. Of course, once they stepped on the lift, a dried out, web-covered body fell on Belinda, making her scream in alarm and getting the attention of two Dwarven spiders. Dione and Katria shot them with arrows, though the latter's were useless against the automatons. Lucien pulled the lever and they barely escaped the second spider.

"I hate spiders. Fuck spiders. Spiders are pieces of shit!" Belinda snapped. Lucien used telepathy to lift the body off her. Dione picked up a red vial from off the floor. She sniffed the contents, then tasted it. Her headache faded.

"At least we got the poor sod's healing potion, and there's a lot of it," she pointed out.

The Deep Market was dark and gloomy with cobwebs and a dusty mist in the air. They were greeted to a spinning blade trap that was easily avoided and passed through the doors at the bottom of the ramp. The foul stench of Falmer assaulted their noses, and Lucien rubbed his nose on the back of his paw at the offensive odor. Falmer scurried like rodents across the room while a few huddled by their fires. The area was cold and damp, which made the smell even worse. There were a pair of Skeevers penned up near the door. Dione and Katria found vantage points and simply sniped a few of the Falmer scurrying around. Belinda took care of the Skeevers. Lucien brushed the minds of various Falmer and showed Dione where to shoot.

After the Skeevers were dead, Belinda set about looting corpses and tents, going up a little higher in the massive chamber. She didn't move until Lucien confirmed she was in the safe. Once the Falmer were dead, the others caught up as Belinda pushed a button to lower a bridge so they could proceed. Of course, Lucien missed the two Dwarven spiders. Belinda and Dione dispatched them quickly. Next they avoided two pressure plates that would have resulted in their deaths and stuck to the shadows just in case some automatons came out of nowhere. Next they arrived to a series of buttons. One opened the way, three resulted in death. Naturally, Dione had it on the first try.

"You know what I'm wondering?" Belinda asked.

"The Dwarves aren't as clever as scholars give them credit for?" Lucien tried.

"These ruins suck?" Dione added.

"We can't get to the key shard fast enough?" Katria sighed.

"All good answers, but I was wondering, with all the bloody traps that plague Dwemer ruin: How the hopping Hell did anyone get three feet without staring death in the eye?" Belinda asked. "And did these traps come after the Dwarves vanished? If so, who placed them and why? Why not just loot the damn places and call it a day?"

Katria opened her mouth to say something, realized Belinda was right, and close her mouth. The next chamber had Chaurus Hunters, making Belinda pale drastically. Lucien quickly placed a powerful calming spell on her so she would make it through the chamber. Dione drew her saber and went to kill the hovering Chaurus. Belinda and Lucien snuck around to kill the Falmer. It was fast, quiet work, muffled by the sounds of jammed up machinery. The bridge leading over the Dwarf-made pond was raised, and they knew to lower it, they had to somehow fix the machines.

Dione went into the pond and removed a chunk of scrap from the gears. Lucien found a skull and plucked out from where it had been wedged between the gears. Belinda removed a spine from another set. Dione got out of the water and yanked out a rotted legs. The sound of smooth machinery replaced the ungodly jammed sound. They pushed the button, the bridge lowered, and a Centurion activated. It saw them instantly and charged. Belinda and Dione jumped into the pond, Lucien turned invisible to hide, Katria stood still, her essence getting trampled to a puddle of ectoplasm. Belinda and Dione poked their heads out from under the water.

"Dione?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't we just run?"

"I don't know." Dione cast an invisibility spell on herself and moved to get a vantage point. She started shooting her arrows at it. Belinda came in with her sword and managed to open on leg. Lucien forced a joint to break and the thing toppled over. Katria managed to pull herself together, groaning in annoyance. They moved on to a chamber with some ingots, ruined books, easily dispatched automatons, and a passage into Blackreach. Belinda took out the attunement sphere that she had been holding onto the entire time and activated the stairway. They slipped to the right side passage and found the key shard at the end. Excitedly, they fused it with the rest of the key, forming the complete one.

Katria smiled. "We're almost there."

"And soon you will be at peace," Belinda pointed out.

"You're right," Katria sighed. "Meet you at the forge." She faded away, leaving the trio to leave and make for Windhelm…

* * *

 _Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 2_ _nd_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

Windhelm was a day away, and Belinda, Dione, and Lucien emerged during the foredawn. They raced their horses down to the road and made it to Windhelm in good time. Sieghard met them at the gates. He had been too late to stop Nathiel. Nilsine and her mother Tova were both dead. The latter had killed herself after losing both daughters. It was a shame. Sieghard sighed and followed them to the Palace of Kings for food and rest. Tomorrow, they would head to the ruins of Bthalft. First they needed to restock on supplies. There wasn't much to replenish, just some food and arrows really. Dione went to work turning the ebony ore and ingots she found into more arrows, buying wood, feathers, and twine as needed. Belinda purchased some jerky and a few pears. Belinda was the one who went to Ulfric about Katria.

"Thank you for finding her," he sighed. They stood on the roof of the Palace of Kings. It was bright, sunny day and people were cleaning up the streets and getting their farms ready for more planting. Belinda sat on the low wall, feet dangling over the side.

"Well, it's better to know than live life wondering," Belinda pointed out. "That's why I occasionally go home to check up on my family despite hating it there."

"What's your family like?" Ulfric asked.

"They try to be normal enough I suppose," Belinda answered. "I don't have time for it. My life is so painfully abnormal that I never stay for long. I've always got better things to do with my life. Save the world, fight a war, look for that special something…" She looked down into the courtyard. It was all ancient stone and massive braziers. Nothing aesthetically pleasing about it unless you were a historian or a scholar. "Life always seems to have me on the move."

"And yet you've settled here," Ulfric pointed out.

"I like it here," Belinda told him. "I have a home, steady work, a life, and summers here are warm enough to farm, but cool enough to be comfortable." A breeze whipped through, lifting their hair and ruffling the fur on their clothes. It brought a dusting of snow with it. It got tangled in her hair and the fur lining her collar.

"Will you be leaving tomorrow?" Ulfric asked.

"Yes; we're going to meet Katria's spirit at the ruins of Bthalft," Belinda answered. "It down in the Rift southeast of Ivarrstead. I take it you'll have us meet with Galmar in Hjaalmarch afterward?"

"Yes," Ulfric responded. "We're just a little closer to liberating Skyrim." The sun was beginning to set, painting the snow-capped mountains an orange-pink hue. "Hjaalmarch is small and insignificant, but I suspect the Imperials will up their numbers there to keep us from taking Hjaalmarch."

"Like that'll stop us." She groaned. "I really don't want to go to Hjaalmarch. I hate swamps. They're muddy, wet, and then last time I went there, Nathiel poisoned me. I barely crawled out of Ustengrav alive." She growled in annoyance. "That damn bastard. He's toying with me."

"Show him no mercy," Ulfric told her. "Don't give him a chance."

"I don't plan on it," Belinda assured.

Ulfric nodded. "Before you leave, I want to give you something as thanks for finding Katria."

Belinda followed him back inside and he led her to his chambers. He gave her a scaled, egg-shaped stone where some of the scales looked like amethyst and some were silver. The rest were just glittery, lilac-colored rock. It was beautiful and a truly fancy gift. Belinda wasn't sure she could accept such a beautiful present.

"It's a fossilized dragon egg," Ulfric pointed out. "It was dug out of an ebony mine a hundred years ago and has been in my family since."

"I can't accept such a beautiful gift," Belinda told him.

"Well, you'll have to suffer," Ulfric teased.

Belinda smiled, holding the egg. It would soon be a treasure she would love for many years to come…

* * *

 _Bthalft, the Rift Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 4_ _th_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

The road to Bthalft was sunny and rain-free, and the ground was thankfully dry, not that they camped out. They rode all the way and through half the night to reach Ivarrstead so they could sleep at the inn. They arrived to hear that the local beggar Narfi had been murdered. Some of the locals had whispered that the Dark Brotherhood was involved. That gave everyone reason to be tense. Lucien kept watch any signs of Shadowmere. They were off just after dawn the next morning and reached Bthalft at noon. They fought off the bandits camped there, Katria appearing to help with the skirmish. After, they went to the center of the exteriors ruins and placed the key into an indentation. Nothing happened until they fiddled around and removed the key. A tower rose revealing a lift. It was ready to take them down to the forge.

"This is it," Katria gasped.

They stepped onto the lift and Sieghard pulled the lever. The journey down was long. Lucien timed it to be almost forty-five minutes. Once the lift landed, the air felt stale and warm. Everyone shed their heavy clothes and left then in the lift. Belinda looked up, seeing barely the light. It looked more like a large star. She huffed, not liking the air. Too hot and too motionless. They proceeded anyway, unlocking a door by striking tonal locks. They descended deeper, the air becoming more unbearable, until they reached the forge itself, sitting at the far side of a platform built over molten lava.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!" Belinda exclaimed. "LAVA! FUCKING LAVA!"

"Oh, this will be unpleasant," Lucien huffed. He pulled two custom leather boots out of his pack and slipped each paw into them. "Oh, I hate wearing boots. They feel weird." They went over to the forge, marveling at it, but stopped dead in their tracks as the steam was burned to the touch. Katria saw the solution: Valves that controlled the steam. Lucien reached out with telekinesis and shut them both off. That made the chamber tremble. Before they could go any further, the forge's automatic guardians emerged, some moving to turn the steam back on.

It started with spiders that exploded lightning upon destruction, then spheres armed with blades and crossbows. They were the real problem. As none of these were living, Katria had to stand back and let the others fight. Lucien latched onto thinner parts of the automatons and practically ripped the metal limbs off. He got some painful doses of electricity. He ended up a giant puffball. Sieghard smacked the things with the flat sides of Wuuthrad and Belinda impaled others with Dragonbane. Dione stayed by Katria to shoot her ebony arrows at the automatons.

"Lucien! The steam valves!" Belinda shouted, feeling the heat searing her skin. She was gasping for breath, sweat pouring down her skin.

Lucien moved quickly to turn the valves back. Soon enough, the spiders and spheres were defeated and Lucien locked the valves in place. Everyone was tired, overheated, and soaked with sweat and blood. Belinda and Sieghard had a few burns from the hot steam and Belinda was certain her shoes were about to catch fire. She could feel the intense heat through the soles. They moved to the forge as the chamber shook violently.

They saw a Centurion, larger than any the group had seen in their various quests, emerge from the lava. Lava and magic and advanced Dwarven technology fueled the monstrosity, and their faces surprisingly paled at the sight of the behemoth Centurion. It came stomping out, steaming and growling.

"Oh, come the fuck on! Are you fucking _serious_?! First lava now this! I HATE TAMRIELIC DWARVES!" she screamed, and inhaled deeply, muttering a word of power, and exhaling ice. "FO-KRAH-DIIN!"

The ice slowed the Centurion, but it was not enough. Dione stayed back to attack from afar. The arrows enchanted with fire would be worthless here, so she used the ones with the ice enchantment. Lucien and Katria were useless here, until the former use an unstable beam and brought it down. Sieghard chopped at its neck and head with Wuuthrad and Belinda breathed ice again. The Centurion made a last ditch effort and blasted Belinda with fire. She shrieked and turned and made herself smaller. Her backpack caught fire, and strangely, she was unharmed. Something hatched and burst from her bag, blocking the flames. She looked behind her to see a small dragon blocking the flames until they died. With a final swing, Sieghard finished off the Centurion. Everyone looked to the small dragon that had appeared as if from nowhere. It had purple scales with silver sheens, silver talons, horns, and arrow-shaped tail-blade. Its eyes were the prettiest purple, and around it were the remains of the canvas backpack Belinda had brought. And the amethyst and silver scales of the egg Ulfric had given her.

"Where did that come from?" Katria exclaimed.

Belinda picked up the shell that should have been fossilized. "The Stormcloak family's fossilized egg," she answered.

"He gave you the family egg?" Katria asked.

"Yes; and that egg just saved my life," Belinda replied. She knelt, looking at the dragonet. It looked up at her expectantly. She smiled and pet its head. It nuzzled her. She picked it up, cradled it close. "Does anyone have meat? Poor thing's hungry." Dione reached into her belt satchel and pulled out jerky. Belinda chewed it up before giving it to the dragonet. It climbed onto her shoulders and settled there. "Well, guess I'm Mom now. Just call me Mama Dragon." She giggled.

"So, what are you going to call it?" Katria asked.

"Hmm…There was this old…Story, from when I was a child," Belinda answered. "It's no proper dragon name, but it will have to do for now: Spyro." Spyro chirped in approval of the name. "Anyway…" Belinda turned to the forge. "Here we are at last."

Katria smiled, and felt as if her heart was fluttering and butterflies were flitting about her stomach. She knelt in front of the forge, crying in delight. "My life's work! Right here!" She got up. "We have to forge something!"

"With what?" Dione asked.

Katria's heart sank. "There's no Aetherium here, is there?" she responded.

Belinda's eyes widened and she pulled the key from her own belt satchel. It was large and thick, but was pure Aetherium. "Yes there is," she said. She ran up to the forge and placed it in slot. It was only large enough for one of three items: A shield, a tiara, or a staff. She looked at the molds, and they required a little more. Dione and Sieghard brought her items from around the forge.

And so, with the greatest care she could, Belinda forge a tiara with Aetherium gems. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The gems shone with a soft, turquoise light. It came enchanted, to bless the wearer with two Guardian Stone blessings. She placed it on her head, smiling.

"It's beautiful," Katria sighed. She carefully hugged Belinda. "Thank you. At last, my work is complete. Now you tell everyone this was _my_ discovery." She pulled away, smiling brightly.

"You looked like you slept with a hanger in your mouth," Belinda giggled.

"Shut up!" Katria laughed.

"Be sure to say goodbye to Ulfric," Belinda chided.

"I will," Katria said, and then faded away.

"Goodbye, Katria," Dione sighed. She let out another breath. "Okay, let's get the Hell outta here before this heat-." She jumped as a pipe burst, releasing Aether and steam. An ashen hand felt around, and a smoky being with Aether-blue eyes climbed out. It fell to the floor of the chamber, looking around nervously.

 _Thought. Consciousness. Voice!_ "Who am I?" it asked. "What am I? Where? I-. I speak!"

Belinda hurried to the being's side and touched its arms. "It's okay! You're alive!" She smiled to it. No, they. They looked up into her eyes with glowing ones. "You're an Aetherborn, a byproduct of Aether refinement. You'll live about four weeks to four years. So live every day like it's your last, and don't be afraid of what you are."

"Astral," they gasped.

Belinda helped them to their feet. "Is that your name?"

"I don't know!" they answered, eyes wide in wonder.

"Well I do. And you're an Astral to me," Belinda assured them. "And yours is a truly unique gift. You can drain the life essence of your enemies if you so choose, but it seems life has given you a little twist: You can choose to share that life essence with friends and allies to heal them. You are truly one of a kind Astral."

"Are there others like me?" Astral asked.

"Not on this world anymore, but on a few beyond the skies," Belinda asked, "in the eternities bound by what makes up your being. You saw them once upon a time and you'll see them again when your body passes. For now, enjoy all this world has to offer!"

"I shall!"


	11. Chapter 11: Astral's Anxiety

_Whiterun, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 6_ _th_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

 _The world is fascinating and large!_ Astral thought as they and Belinda, Dione, Lucien, and Sieghard arrived at the city of Whiterun. Spring was in full bloom, the rolling hills of the hold now a lush green rather than gold with the little streams crystal clue. Wild flowers dotted the landscape in patches of bright colors. Farmers were plowing their land and plenty crops while wild horse races across the landscape. The number of merchants may have few in number due to the war, but they were brightly dress and came from all across the continent to trade their goods in the centermost city of Whiterun. People brought all manner of goods, including caged animals from exotic lands. Astral rode behind Dione on Frost, wrapped in her cloak. Sieghard had provided a pair of spare trousers and a shirt, both of which were too big. Belinda provided a pair of shoes she had. They fit like a glove on them. And seeing all of the people made them excited.

"Don't worry Astral," Belinda started, Sieghard riding behind her on Queen Alfsigr. "We'll find you clothes that fit better."

"Thank you dear," Astral responded. "Perhaps something fine and colorful?"

Belinda giggled. "You know it."

The group stopped at the stables and dropped of Frost and Allie before following the flow of traffic and colorful tents to the main gate. People were set up across the city, making it look like the bright, colorful town it was supposed to be. Ysolda was hurrying around with a basket on the crook of her arm, chatting up the merchants and establishing connections and reestablishing relationships. She made sure that some merchants were getting along and settling disputes. Being someone who was a talented merchant herself, it made sense that she handled complaints. She was joined by Jarl Vignar Greymane's steward, Brill.

Spyro poked his head out of the messenger bag over Belinda's shoulder, watching the world with wide, violet eyes. He chirped, getting Belinda's attention. She scratched on the back of the head gently ushered him back into the bag. Astral hugged the closer around them, looking around in fascination. Both they and Spyro were excited. The baby dragon was new, born into a massive world and the Aetherborn was seeing the world through actual eyes rather than…Whatever they saw before eyes! Finally, they made it through the crowds to Breezehome and entered.

"Lydia?" Belinda called. No response. "Guess she's out enjoying the market. Good on her. She needs a life."

"Who is Lydia?" Astral asked.

"She's my housecarl," Belinda answered. "Simply put: She's my personal guard protects my friends, family, property, and myself as well servant work if I need her to." She grabbed some firewood and breathed with a Word of Power. The logs caught immediately and started burning. The house was nice and simple, very clean. "Astral, you'll be staying with me. There are five rooms here. The one by the stairs is our guest room where Dione sleeps when she is here. Lydia's is right at the top of the stairs, Lucien's is downstairs in the basement, and mine is upstairs; you just take a sharp right at the top of the stairs and it behind the double doors. We'll give you the extra one in the basement across from Lucien's."

"Thank you dear," Astral said.

"I better get home and wash up," Sieghard told them.

"You do not live here?" Astral asked.

"I live in Jorrvaskr up in the Wind District," Sieghard answered. "Belinda will show you the way later. You'll probably come up for dinner."

Not that Astral needed to eat, but there were others way for the Aetherborn to have fun. Sieghard departed and returned to the mead hall. Those that remained went downstairs. Belinda showed Astral their room. It was unfurnished and a bit dusty, evidence that it was just a vacant room. Lucien's room was a pile of lovely and plush pillows, soft blankets, thick rugs and curtains, and books, books, and more books! More books than anyone could read in a lifetime! There was a table against one wall with two chairs, a board, and lovely marble chess pieces and a cabinet of candles, writing supplies, and more pillows against another. Against the far wall across from the door was a wardrobe of cloaks, collars, and various clothes.

"You, Sir, have quite the comfortable accommodations," Astral complimented.

"Why thank you." Lucien removed his cloak and tossed it into the laundry basket for the wash.

"Beware, he snores!" Belinda warned.

"Quiet, you!" Lucien snapped. "Now, bathe me servant!"

"Uh, excuse you, Fuzzbutt?" Belinda retorted.

They laughed and giggled all the way to the bathroom where they undressed and bathed. Astral played with the water a little. No too much. They were a tad worried about damaging their shell. Belinda ducked under the water a lot and played with Dione's feet, making the Dunmer shriek and giggle like a child. She even snorted. They dried off and drained the water and dressed in fresh clothes. Belinda had chosen a purple, short-sleeved dress over black leggings and soft, black boots. She put a black vest over the top of her dress and zipped it up to her bust and then braided her long hair. Next came a black, leather belt with a satchel and black, fingerless gloves. Dione opted for dark leathers and a hooded cloak. She and Belinda armed themselves with simple steel daggers.

"You look like trouble, dear," Astral pointed out to Dione.

"I'm actually a thief," Dione admitted, "and I'm a damn good one." She smirked, lilac lips crooked. "With all these merchants in town and all these people flooding the street, it's the perfect opportunity to cut purses, steal some goods, and deal in secrets and coin. My idea of fun." She hurried upstairs and slipped out the front door.

"I will assume her activities are illegal?" Astral asked, looking to Belinda.

Belinda smiled. "Very. But let's not worry about it too much," she answered. "She will never rob a friend or family member and there are some pockets even she will not stick her hand into. Now, let's go find you some clothes."

They went outside, and up to the merchants selling clothes and fabric. Astral kept themselves hidden. Dione and Belinda had warned that many would think them some sort of Daedra. When they had asked what a Daedra was, both had tried to answer to the best of their abilities. The simplest answer was: It's complicated. There were 16 Princes in total, and while they were basically non-binary, most did prefer a gender. And they had lesser Daedra who served them. Each Prince had one to three lesser Daedra specific to them, and some were largely universal. Mephala had her spiders, Sheogorath had his Golden Saints and Dark Seducers, Azura had Winged Twilights, and Hermaeus Mora had his Seekers and Lurkers. Each resided in their own plane of Oblivion surrounding the natural world and each plane reflected their Prince.

"This sounds so complicated," Astral had sighed.

"Well, yeah," Belinda agreed. "It's all complicated at the heart of things, but what can you do? And the annoying part is that there's supposedly a seventeenth Prince! Granted, I haven't seen any of their Daedra and I don't think they really have any worshippers."

Astral knew they had a lot to learn about the world, and so little time to do it. They saw they had four years, two months, one week, and six days left to live. They had to live and learn and love as much as possible before their time was up. Soon, they had wardrobe full of clothes, a thick plush rug, and a comfy lounge chair. As they passed some exotic animals, they took a fancy to a pretty songbird and bought the little blue creatures. Astral enjoyed its song.

"Oooh, dinner," Lucien teased.

"My bird!" Astral snapped, holding the cage protectively.

"Just teasing," Lucien assured. "My adopted mom had a songbird once. Well, she had hundreds of pets and patients. She was always bringing home strays, orphans, and the like. Our property was a large space settled next to a lake and she grew pear trees and berry bushes. So we were always housing rehabilitating, and helping various animals. Deer, swans, cats, dogs, rabbits, you name it! We were running an animal sanctuary on our land. And she would always take time out to study their behavior and learn their languages."

"Sounds absolutely wonderful," Astral commented. "I would have loved to see it."

"I would love to see it again as it was," Lucien sighed. "Last time I was there a hundred years ago, the land was so different and there wasn't even out lovely cottage anymore."

"Um, how old are you?" Astral asked.

"Ten-thousand-something," Lucien answered. "A combination of things has given me a very long life, far longer than anyone should have. I have a collection of journals: One volume for every year of my life since I learned to read and write, and that first journal covered my first five years, recounting all I could remember from the moment of my birth. I'm glad I'm a telepath."

Astral nodded. They couldn't imagine living for thousands of years. _How many of them has Lucien spent alone_ , they asked. They reached out, feeling the lynx's emotions. There was grief that smelt of rain and smoke. It was a choking scent. Lucien had suffered a lot. Loneliness. That was a bitter smell. Astral pulled back. Those teal eyes were staring at them. "Sorry," they apologized.

"It's not your fault," Lucien pointed out. "You're an Aetherborn. You have a natural born talent to sense what others feel."

Astral nodded, and arrived in Jorrvaskr that evening in a fine, white shirt with puffy sleeves that was loose around the chest; a turquoise, velvet vest with brown embroidering on the high collar, around the sleeve holes, and along the bottom; fine, steel bracers adorned with turquoise; a gold ring with round, cabochon-cut turquoise; black trousers, brown leather boots, and brown velvet hooded cloak. They felt fabulous and well-dressed, and didn't need to worry about underdressing because they couldn't feel the cold air. They did, however, feel little overdressed and too bright when entering the Companions's mead hall. Everyone either wore some sort of armor or plain clothes. Even Lucien had opted to go without his own cloak.

They felt self-conscious as the Companions, save Sieghard, stared. Vilkas and Athis studied them. Farkas and Aela dared to approach them, the latter with several reassurances from Sieghard. Ria followed them after a time. The others stayed away and looked at them in suspicion. It got worse as they didn't need food or drink. They watched as Vilkas sat on Belinda's other side, giving her a mug of mead that smelt of pears. That's when Spyro came out of Belinda's bag to settle on her shoulders. At least the little dragonet took a lot of the attention off Astral, who was suffering so much anxiety. They were a curiosity, a suspicion, something to be wary of. Astral was sure they felt nausea as they slipped away out the back. Dione was out there, sitting on one of the tables and eating an apple.

"Exhausted?" Dione asked, turning to him with lilac eyes full over concern.

"I think I am nauseated from anxiety," Astral answered, placing a hand over where their stomach would have been. "This spot feels like it's turning over, my eyes sting, and my throat is tight."

"Yeah, that's basically anxiety-induced nausea," Dione agreed.

"Everyone kept staring and it was horrifying mix of curiosity, suspicion, and fear," Astral sighed, "and I felt all of it."

"Sieghard and I looked at you the same way," Dione pointed out, "but I guess that was different. Our fear and suspicion were quickly alleviated. Curiosity was a different story. I'm more fascinated by you. The fact that raw Aether can be made into an intellectual being, can take a humanoid form. Look up at the sky. What do you see?"

Astral looked up. "Stars," they answered. "Countless stars."

"Well, that's basically what you're made of," Dione told them.

"I'm made of stars?" Astral asked.

"Essentially, we are all made of stars," Dione answered, "but you're made of the stuff that connects the stars together."

If they could, Astral would smile. "Thank you. I feel better." That was when Vilkas came out, clearing his throat. Astral and Dione turned to him.

"Astral? I apologize for making you feel unwelcomed," he said.

"It's alright, dear," Astral assured. "I'm not used to life yet."

"Well, in the meantime, why don't you two come back in," Vilkas suggested. "Everyone is getting ready to start standing on the tables and boasting and throwing their mead and ale around."

"Oh my, sounds barbaric!" Astral exclaimed.

"Well, this is Skyrim," Vilkas pointed out. "It's kind of what we do here."

Dione snickered. "As much as I would like to avoid getting ale in my hair, I think I'll join in," she said. She headed inside, Vilkas and Astral following.

They sat at the table as Torvar was drunkenly going on and on about slaying a group of spiders. Once again, Ria clobbered him. This time with a metal tankard. Farkas got up and talked about the bar fight he single-handedly put down over in Markarth and how one of them was a Forsworn that nearly stabbed him in the eye. Sieghard told them the story of Katria and her quest to find the forge, how she was the one who truly discovered it and how it led to the births of Spyro and Astral and Katria's spirit finally finding peace enough to rest. It made everyone cheer.

Around midnight, Sieghard and Aela retired to their chambers in Jorrvaskr's basement while Belinda, Dione, Lucien, and Astral walked home together. Spyro was asleep around Belinda's shoulders, tired from the long, exciting day. Lydia was still amiss. No one minded and retired to their rooms. Lucien curled up under a blanket in his pile of colorful pillows. Dione got a pleasant surprise upon entering her room: Brynjolf had some to Whiterun and was in bed waiting for her. She cuddled up to the handsome, redheaded Nord, kissing him passionately in need. Astral lay on their lounger, looking up at the bare ceiling. _It needs stars,_ they thought, and decided to read a book while their songbird sang. Belinda flopped on her bed, laid on her side, and hugged a pillow close. Her eyes slid close and she was out like a light.

It had been a long, busy day, and it was about to be a busier two weeks to follow. Tomorrow, she, Dione, Lucien, Astral, and Spyro would begin traveling to the Stormcloaks' camp in Hjaalmarch. That was a journal they would take them through Labyrinthian, which meant Frost Trolls and possibly Ice Wraiths as well. Next, they would descend into the swampy lands. And because Hjaalmarch was Imperial territory, they would be unable to stop at Morthal to rest at the inn. So it would be back to sleep on soft, wet ground once again.

Belinda shuddered at the thought.


	12. Chapter 12: A False Front

_Stormcloak Camp, Hjaalmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 9_ _th_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

Cold air plus sleeping on the wet, squishy ground plus Chaurus and Frostbite Spiders above ground plus fighting through Frost Trolls in Labyrinthian plus falling into the icy water of the marsh equaled a very irritated, pissed off Dragonborn, who shuddered as she held her cloak tightly around her. The insides of her boots with full of water and mud, soaking through her soaks and numbing and bleaching her feet. The morning before they arrived, a small Frostbite Spider had taken her group by surprise, and while Allie was a normally very calm, well-tempered mare, the spider spitting poison at the group made the mare rear and throw Belinda into the icy waters of the marsh. She was glad she had not been wearing her cloak, which she now wore tightly. Her bedroll was already ruined. They traveled around Mortal, their horses getting wet. Everyone was more miserable by the time of reaching the Hjaalmarch camp, they were more miserable than when they had reached the Falkreath camp.

Grete got a strong fire going and provided towels. They, except for Astral, washed up. Everyone stayed away from them, not sure what they even were. They changed along with Belinda and Dione. Fresh clothes were important. They huddled at the fire and bowls of stew were provided. Ralof and Grete sat across from the group. They were curious about Astral, and Belinda told them the story, and even showed them Spyro. The dragonet chirped excitedly and tried to gobble up the meat put in front of him.

"Are you lot insane?!" Belinda exclaimed. "Chew the damn food and then give it to him!"

"So you want us to spit in his mouth like he's a chick?" one of the soldiers asked.

"No, just spit it into a bowl," Belinda answered.

By this point, Galmar returned with his scouts and asked what all of the fuss was about. Belinda explained everything. Galmar examined Spyro, the tiara, and Astral. "So, Spyro hatched from the egg after a Dwarven Centurion blasted you with fire?" Nod. "Then you made this tiara with the last piece of Aetherium in the world and it came enchanted?" Another nod. "And as a result of that, Astral came into being?" Once more: Nod. "And what does the Harbinger of the Companions think about all of this?" Galmar asked.

"In my opinion: I think he's learned to just smile, nod, and go along with it," Belinda answered. "One thing about Dione, Lucien, and I: We attract insanity. Kind of our nature."

"Ask me about last spring and summer sometime," Dione pointed out. "Actually, just ask me about the last few years of my life."

" _Isn't being a Planeswalker just delightful?"_ Lucien asked telepathically to the two women.

Galmar nodded and bent over the map. "Well, just keep the insanity back as much as possible until the war ends, will you?" he asked. "I have a special task for you lot, and Ralof and Grete. GRETE! RALOF!" he bellowed. Grete and Ralof entered the tent. Of course, Grete was a redhead and Ralof was the only soldier who came from Riverwood.

"Yes Sir?" Grete asked, standing at attention, confidence in her voice. She had come far from the scared young woman Belinda had met a couple months prior.

"We need to deliver false orders to the Imperial Legate over in Morthal," Galmar explained to the group. "You lot need to intercept any and all imperial couriers and steal the plans they're carrying. There are three roads we need to watch for them: The road to Morthal that will take the courier pass Stonehills, the road to Markarth that will take them past Karthwasten, and the road that will take them through Rorikstead. I want a group of two stationed at each village to watch for the couriers. Dispatch them however you see fit, get the orders they're carrying, and bring them back here."

"I'll take the Reach," Dione told them. "Ralof, you're with me."

"Wait, why?" Ralof asked.

"You're a decent archer, and given the geography of the Reach, we'll have plenty of ambush sites," Dione answered. "Besides, there's the not so small matter of the Forsworn. We have the sharpest eyes. We'll easily have each other's back."

Ralof nodded.

"As much as I hate swamps," Belinda began, "Astral and I will take Stonehills. Astral can spook the courier and I can get in from behind. The swamp and the mist, it'll be easy."

"You just want to see if it's possible to scare someone to death," Lucien chuckled.

"Maybe, but Astral looks pretty scary if you don't know what they are," Belinda pointed out.

"Sounds delightfully fun, dear," Astral added.

"So, looks like it's you and I, Grete," Lucien stated, looking to the redhead. "You'll be a hunter and I your faithful companion."

Spyro climbed out of Belinda's bag and perched on her shoulders. He gave a hungry chirp. Belinda few him a few strawberries that she had. "Now, now, Spyro." She scratched his chin and coaxed him into her pack. "Such a little glutton. Well, he is a growing dragon, and I don't think anyone knows how fast they grow here."

"Well, no one's see a dragon pup in a few thousand years," Galmar pointed out. He turned back to the map. "Anyway, you have your jobs. Get some rest. You'll need an early start.

They left the large tent and retreated their own. Astral kept watch at the edge of the camp, seated on a tree stump. For them, the night was long, but a glorious sight. The auroras danced overhead, the stars burning bright. Secunda and Masser were full and bright. Somewhere in the distance, they heard a wolf howl a low, solemn sound. The swamp was alive with sound: Frogs croaking, crickets chirping, and bats squeaking. Mist swirled along the soft ground and shimmered over ponds and lakes. From where they sat, they saw a massive shape circling over some mountains to the south. A few people approached them throughout the night to ask questions. Astral answered them to the best of their ability. The Stormcloaks felt comfortable sleeping with them on watch. Before the others awoke, they sensed Lucien stir and emerge from his tent. He went off for a bit, and soon returned. He sat beside Astral.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Lucien asked.

"I did, dear," Astral answered. "The swamp was so alive. Why does Belinda hate it so?"

"She hates wet cold and the feeling of the mana here," Lucien answered. "Now, I personally don't care much for this region myself. It's icky and sticks to my lovely fur. I prefer the Pine Forest of Falkreath Hold or the Birch Forest of the Rift. Better hunting there and I blend in better without worrying about my fur."

Belinda came out of her tent, feeling groggy and grouchy. She started brushing her hair, wet it, and braided it. The quartermaster went to work on cooking a breakfast of pheasant eggs with bits of crumbled, precooked sausage. Belinda got out a block of cheese and grated it into the eggs, and then added salt and pepper. The quartermaster glared to her.

"What? Eggs needs seasoning!" Belinda defended.

"I think it's funny you have cheese in your bag," Dione pointed out.

"Well, I need Gouda for a Gouda day," Belinda joked.

"Oh no," Lucien muttered.

"You cheddar not be making cheese puns," Dione laughed.

"Stop _right_ there," Lucien snapped, ears flat in annoyance.

Astral chuckled.

Soon, the camp came to life, everyone getting a large spoonful of eggs. Everyone appreciated the cheese and salt and pepper. After breakfast, Belinda, Dione, Lucien, Astral, Ralof, and Grete started packing to go to their roads. Dione pulled Ralof up behind her in the saddle. They rode off. Astral rode behind Belinda on Allie while Lucien and Grete went on foot. Within a few days, they were all in position to ambush couriers.

* * *

 _The Reach Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 14_ _th_ _of Second, 4E202_

Dione and Ralof sat among the crags in the Reach, watching over the road to Markarth. They were close to Karthwasten, waiting for a hapless courier to come by. Ralof was impressed with Dione's endurance. She was able to hold still for hours at a time. In fact, it had been two days since she had moved from her spot. Had she even slept? Ralof had heard stories about elves not needing to perform basic bodily functions for days at a time. Had the times he had seen her sleeping just some sort of habit? He leaned against a boulder sticking out of the ground, watching the hills and stone above them. No Forsworn, but it was painfully quiet. Finally, he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. Ralof turned to see Dione had drawn the Nightingale Blade.

"Forsworn," she whispered quietly.

Ralof quickly looked around, and soon the clattering of bones against each other and grabbed his steel axes, one in each hand. Dione charged a ball of fire and lightning. The Forsworn jumped out of hiding and the Dunmer spun, flinging the charged spell at them. The fighting and lightning exploded into a bright display of violet-white and bright oranges and reds. The first four Forsworn were blasted back, two slamming into boulders with sickening crunches. The other half had been blown apart. The spell had landed on his foot and he was practically split open. The other had been badly burned and lost an arm. The four didn't get back up. There were still eight more Forsworn. Dione and summoned a Winged Twilight. The harpy-like Daedra attacked one Forsworn. Dione and Ralof charged into battle.

Ralof dared to take on three, but three Forsworn against one man was trying a task. If they had been train imperial soldiers or bandits, it might not have been so bad. The Forsworn were wild and screamed of retaking the Reach. As if. They surrounded him and lunged at him. He jumped back and swiped at the nearest one with his right axe. He cut deep into the Forsworn's side while the other two slammed into each other and fell to the ground. A man wearing a headdress with antlers on it had gored the woman he slammed into. Ralof jumped around the Forsworn he cut and quickly went to finish off the downed Forsworn. By the time he cut off her head, his other two opponents were back on their feet and charging again. Ralof flung one of his axe at the one with the bloody antlers. The axe got the man in the face. Ralof was now one on one with the last of his opponents, the one he had cut. Despite losing a lot of blood and losing more every second, this one was not planning to go down. He swung his wicked sword at Ralof, who ducked and slammed his axe into the enemy's gut.

Dione was surrounded, dancing out of the way of attacks. She spun, dodging an attack swinging her blade at one Forsworn. She cut her chest, but was quickly blasted by ice. Dione brought her cape up to block the ice spell from hitting her face. She flipped it back and brought up a ward quickly. A lot of Forsworn were powerful mages and shamans. One, a Briarheart she noticed, was conjuring a spell of lightning. Dione added lightning to her ward and a spell to drain mana. The Briarheart's lightning spell would only fuel her mana. A Forsworn came at her from behind, swinging his axe of stone, wood, and bone. She twirled her sword and shot it out behind her. The sword impaled the Forsworn and he toppled over, taking her sword with him. The lightning attack came at her, sending her back into a boulder. She grunted, the Briarheart and the two remaining Forsworn coming at her. So, she charged a spell of fire, ice, and lightning, practically ripping mana from the land, and sent an explosive blast outward.

Her body twitched and spasmed, her vision white. The sound of thousands, maybe millions, of coins hitting stone echoed around her. She felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her and grounding her back to reality. The blindness cleared, and she was trembling. The sounds of coins on stone turned out to be rain. When did it start raining? How long was she out?

"I'm afraid to ask, but how long was I out?" she asked.

"I think a few hours," Ralof answered. "I woke up a moment ago and saw you over here twitching. It looked like you were having…What do they call them? Seizures?"

"Crap, how am I alive?" Dione wondered. She flexed her limbs, fingers, and toes. Nothing amiss. Ralof helped her up. Her back ached, and she hissed in pain. Her back would be badly bruised.

Bodies lay strewn about. There would have been blood, but the rain had washed it away. Dione retrieved her sword and cleaned it off. She was exhausted, hurting, and thirsty. She grabbed her waterskin and drank until it was empty. She sat, back against a boulder.

"Fuck the Forsworn," she grumbled.

Ralof chuckled.

"Think that's funny?" she asked him.

He shut up. Good. He went to Dione's perch and watched for the courier.

* * *

 _Rorikstead, Whiterun Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn_

Grete sat in the corner with Lucien, a hood drawn over her face. Some Redguards were in another corner, looking as shady as she did. A traveling bard was at the inn as well, playing praises to the Stormcloaks and the Dragonborn. Lucien knew every single soul in the inn. There was the basement where there were two bedrooms for the innkeeper and his son, a cellar where food and drink was stored, and washroom. The ground floor had two rooms that were rented out and there was an attic with four more rooms, one of which belonged to the wench who had since come to work at the inn. Aside from the innkeeper, his son, the help, the bard, and the two Redguards, all of the locals were gathered and there were two merchants, both at the bar and trading stories and talking about their trade routes. One was a Cyrodiilic from the south who arrived in Skyrim via a ship out of Anvil to Solitude. He was planning to sell at the Summer Festival in Whiterun this year. The second was a Dunmer Solstheim who was travelling to Markarth to sell unique weapons. None of these people were the target.

" _Anything?"_ Grete asked mentally. She was still not used to speaking this way, but Lucien had insisted on it for safety's sake.

" _No. None of these people are the target,"_ Lucien answered. _"The only Cyrodiilic in here is a legit merchant. Of course, assuming we're looking for a Cyrodiilic is called racial profiling."_

Their eyes were drawn to the door where two women entered. The first one was a short, plump Cyrodiilic woman with curly, medium brown hair streaked with grey and hazel eyes. She wore a plain blue dress and a thick grey hooded cloak. She had the hood drawn up. The woman behind her hair that was once the color of the sun by has since turned silver with age. She wore it in a thick braid and her eyes were green-blue. She wore old, dented steel plate armor. They went to the counter to speak to the innkeeper.

"One room, one large bed, please," the Cyrodiilic asked.

"That'll be 20 gold per night," the innkeeper replied.

She paid him and the wench led them to their room. Lucien reached out to read their minds. He quickly pulled back. Grete looked at him.

" _Not who we're waiting for, but they're to be kept safe,"_ he informed her.

" _Who are they?"_ Grete asked.

" _Dione's mothers,"_ Lucien answered. _"Forget our mission. We have a new one. We will escort them to safety."_

Grete nodded. When the two women came back down, she went over to them. "Excuse me?" she greeted. Hilda and Oriana turned to her.

"Yes?" Oriana asked.

"Are you Hilda and Oriana?" Grete asked.

"How did you-?"

"I'm a friend of Dione's," Grete explained.

"Do you know where she is?" Hilda asked.

"She's out in the Reach right," Grete answered. "It'll be difficult to find her. I have a rough idea of where she might be, but she might not be there anymore for all I know. I can tell you where you have a good chance of finding her though. In a week, she'll be in Whiterun where she'll stay with a friend of hers. Lucien and I will take you there."

"Who's Lucien?" Oriana asked.

"That would be I, madams," Lucien answered, walking over.

"A talking cat," Hilda mumbled. "Now I've seen everything." They moved to Grete's table in the corner and sat. Oriana and Hilda ordered food and drink.

"So, what brings you two to Skyrim?" Grete asked.

Hilda pulled out a folded paper and handed it to Grete. The young redhead unfolded it and saw it was a wanted poster for Dione. The picture looked like crap, and the name read Dione Desidenius. Wanted for so many crimes: Theft, embezzlement, forgery, pickpocketing, counterfeiting, burglary, conspiracy to commit theft, grand larceny, tax evasion, slander, fraud, perfidy, trespassing on Imperial and Thalmor properties, defacement of public and private properties, treason, assault, assaulting Imperial Officials, assaulting Thalmor Officials, and murdering Imperial and Thalmor Officials. It was quite a list of crime.

"Wow, impressive," Grete muttered. "I take you're here to scold her for her behavior?"

"That would be pointless," Oriana pointed out. "Enthir warned us of what we were getting ourselves into when we took her in. We're here to make sure she's alive and eating and to inform her about the wanted poster."

"I think Dione would be more offended by the crappy art of her," Lucien chuckled. "Looks nothing like her and don't even get me started on the nose."

They all chuckled.

* * *

 _Outside Stonehills, Hjaalmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn_

 _I have to get these orders to Legate Duilis,_ thought an Imperial Courier as he ran past the village of Stonehills. It was dark out, the fog was thick, and only through torchlight could he even remotely see the road in front of him. But the damp air made the wood wet and the smoke began to come out dark and choking. Finally, the courier tripped the torch rolled away until it was extinguished. The courier swallowed hard. This was not good. He got up, and then his eyes widened. The image of a ghostly woman stood before him, ethereal dress billowing slightly.

"Turn back," she cried to him.

The courier turned, only to look into a pair of glowing, turquoise eyes. Astral touched his cheek, and felt the life drain from the courier. They felt the courier's fear, saw their memories, guilt over telling the Thalmor about his cousin being a Talos worshipper, the sweet tavern wench, dreams of becoming a general. They felt this man's dying thoughts and they were crushing. Astral wasn't sure if they were feeling their own guilt or the courier's. Either way, it was an unpleasant experience that gave Astral 12 more days to live.

Belinda walked over, her ghostly form becoming solid. She knelt beside the body and wordlessly searched it. She found the orders that were to be delivered to the legate in Morthal. "We got the info," she reported. "Now to get it to Galmar. Dione will likely make the forgery."

Astral nodded. "That felt horrible…"

Belinda looked to him. "Draining his life?" she asked.

"Yes."

"It's different from spells and enchantments. Aetherborn are empaths," Belinda pointed out.

"He betrayed a cousin to the Thalmor for worshipping Talos," Astral muttered. "He felt guilty about it, but there was a girl…"

"Then let's not dwell on him," Belinda sighed. "Hate to be a bitch, but betraying family, sending them to a horrible fate worse than death, for a girl? Hell no!" They removed his leather armor and dumped him in the swamp. They would need the armor to successfully deliver the false message.

* * *

 _Stormcloak Camp, Hjaalmarh Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 20_ _th_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

Belinda and Astral arrived first. Dione and Ralof arrived the day after, unsuccessful but battered and Dione needed a healer. Belinda took out the gem she had stored Danica Pure-Spring's healing magic in and drew on the power. She went to work on treating Dione's injuries. After her body was healed, Dione went to work on forging the orders for the legate in Morthal. She was quite good at it too. She had done this probably over a hundred times before. Finally, Grete and Lucien returned, bearing news.

"Your mothers are in Whiterun," Lucien told Dione as she was taking a break from forging the letter to eat.

"My mothers are what?" she asked, hoping she had misheard the lynx.

"Your Ma and Mother are in Skyrim, Grete and I met them in Rorikstead, and we led them to Whiterun to wait for you," Lucien answered.

"Oh, why are they here?" Dione groaned.

"They're worried about you," Lucien pointed out. "They're your moms. That's what they do."

Dione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That is what they do." She looked to Lucien and asked, "Did you set them up at Breezehome, Jorrvaskr, or The Bannered Mare?"

"Breezehome," Lucien answered. "I let Sieghard know they were there so he can help Lydia look after them."

"Okay, good." Dione finished her sweet roll and went back to work.

Meanwhile, Belinda was boiling swamp water to clean it and make it drinkable. Ralof sat next to her on the log. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hi," Ralof responded. "Grete said that you have some guests currently at your house in Whiterun."

The water was beginning to shimmer. "Who?"

"Dione's mothers."

Belinda nodded. She added another log to the fire and stroked the flames. She was using pyromancy to keep the wood dry and the fire going. Ralof watched her using magic to do this. To think, with enough control, magic could be applied to even the simplest of tasks. He wanted to learn suddenly, if that was even possible. But he didn't want to learn just any kind of magic, especially since they could hear the groans of two soldiers who had been hurt badly in a skirmish the day before. He wanted to learn healing.

"Belinda?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you teach me to heal people?" Ralof asked.

"I would, but I'm no healer nor a teacher," Belinda answered. "I can recommend Danica Pure-Spring in Whiterun and I know basic first aid." She looked to Ralof. "You're a good soldier, but fighting isn't your thing. You joined the Stormcloaks because you believe in the cause. Maybe you'll make a better battlefield surgeon. I'll teach you the basics I know." She looked deeper into Ralof. Healer. Capable of arcane magic. "Luckily, you're a natural born healer. Enough practice and you'll be a master. You can also learn arcane magic."

"Will that be hard?" Ralof asked.

"Very," Belinda answered, drying the logs beside her again. The water was beginning to boil.

"What about using magic to do what you're doing?" Ralof asked.

"You're not a pyromancer, and using arcane fire to dry things is painfully tricky," Belinda answered. "Dione is better suited for teaching that, but her specialty to combining spells for different effects."

"Is that normal?"

"What? Being able to combine two or more spells into one? No. I've never even heard of such a thing to be honest. I've heard of using the same healing spell in both hands to increase its power, but never spell fusion. And you've seen some of her fusions. She made a gravospehere and a grappling hook with ice, lightning, and telekinesis. Imagine if she could eventually fuse four spells. She's getting stronger. We both are, and we're learning new tricks that are part of our talents. I didn't know I could become a ghosty until a few weeks ago!"

"Magic is complicated," Ralof muttered.

* * *

"You don't know the half of it."

 _Fort Snowhawk, Hjaalmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 22_ _nd_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

Grete made adjustments to the legion courier armor to fit Dione. It would be more believable if Dione delivered the forged documents. After the two women were done, Dione dressed in the armor and placed the forged documents in her pack. She rode away on Frost to deliver them while Galmar led the troops to Fort Snowhawk. Dione got the orders delivered and met them at the fort. Once the legate arrived and the soldiers relaxed, it was a matter of waiting for them to open the gate to wait for a caravan to never arrive. The gate soon rose. Dione infiltrated and dispatched the man guarding the lever before sticking a metal rod in the lever to keep it in place.

That's when the Stormcloaks swarmed the place and battled for control. The Stormcloaks had the advantage here. The men and women had spent a considerable amount of time in the swamp and were better suited to soft, uneven ground. The fort was theirs by midnight.

Nathiel watched from afar. Belinda was down there. No more horsing around. She was his. He went in and grabbed her. He threw her to the ground. Belinda grunted when she hit the ground. She glared at Nathiel, who smirked and started fading. He grabbed her and forced her to leave Nirn with him. They tumbled and fell through the eternities before they hit Earth. They fell through trees, hitting every branch on the way down, before hitting water. They fought and struggled. Nathiel struck Belinda in the side of the head, and she blacked out…


	13. Chapter 13: Skorn's Prisoner

**Warning.  
Graphic depictions of torture, blood and gore,  
extreme horror, and attempted rape of a minor.**

* * *

 _Unknown…_

Belinda had a headache, mostly centered around where Nathiel had punched her. She was on her back, laying of something wet and sticky. Looking up at the ceiling, she saw stalactites hanging overhead, a reddish-brown and dripping blood. Now was the perfect time to panic, but Belinda forced herself to stay quiet. She lifted her left hand and it was covered in blood. Carefully, she stood, shaking. She was unarmed and wore only her blood-soaked jeans, shirt, and boots. She saw a barred door and went over to it, stepping carefully so as not making any splashing sounds that were louder than the blood dripping from above. She looked out into a hallway of blood-splattered, rusted metal. Suddenly, she heard a scream of agony.

 _Oh perfect! I'm in Hell!_ Belinda thought. She checked both directions through the bars of her cell. No one. She tried wiping the blood off her hands and pushed on the bars. Nothing gave, and she was afraid to rattle the bars. She didn't know where her weapons were, so it was best not to attract attention to herself. She reached down her shirt and into her bra where she found the lockpicks Dione had given her. She knelt and fiddled with the lock, trying to get it open. Soon, she heard the click that told her the door was unlocked and she opened it slowly. That didn't stop the squealing of rusted metal.

Once out of the cell, she made it her first objective to find a weapon to defend herself. She shakily touched the leylines of the place she was in. Nothing but black and red mana responded to her. She pulled it, willed it into a weapon. She summoned a Daedric sword from Nirn. This would work. Next objective: Find belongings. If they were here, they had to be in the same place. She reached out again, trying to sense the crystals Lucien had given her. They were far from where she was, and there was plenty of demons on the way there. However, she did not plan on leaving her gear behind.

Slowly, she made her way through the corridors, careful not to make too much noise. At one four way intersection, she pressed herself against the wall and held her breath. A large, hulking demon stomped past, dragging the body of some poor soul. Once it past, Belinda moved again. This was a bad situation. Finally, she had to stop. The smell of rust and blood was starting to become overwhelming and she doubled over, throwing up. She cringed and shuddered, and soon sensed Nathiel nearby. In her weakened state, she stood no chance. So, she threw caution to the wind and ran. It was a terrible idea as she slipped over fresh blood and fell forward, slamming her left knee into the floor.

Her vision flared red as her kneecap cracked and she fell over. She clutched her knee, whimpering in pain. Nathiel was approaching. Belinda forced herself back up and picked up the Daedric sword. She limped toward the room where her belongings were. Every step hurt bad, and Nathiel was coming closer still. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ Belinda silently cursed, clenching her teeth. She reached a door. Her belongings were past it, and she could sense that entering this room might be a bad idea.

"Belinda…Where are you…?" Nathiel called out.

 _Oh, fuck that!_ Belinda thought, opening the door and entering. She shut it behind her as quietly as she could. She turned around, seeing a stone room with five people on hanging from the ceiling. Some hung by their wrists, the rest by their ankles. They were all covered in gashes though and most of the wounds had turned black and yellow. Belinda gagged. The room smelt worse than the hallway. The door on the other side of the room opened and a demon entered. He was humanoid and two-legged, but he had a scorpion tail. Belinda pressed herself into the darkened corner, hoping to evade detection. The demon didn't seem to notice her and checked the bodies. It looked like they were unconscious.

The door opened and Nathiel entered. Belinda thought about sliding over and out the door, which Nathiel had left open. "Norook, my prisoner seems to have escaped her cell," he told the demon.

Belinda slipped out the door, and she heard the demon bellow behind her. Nathiel and the demon Norook were right behind her, and the former tackled her to the ground. He grabbed her by the braid and her left wrist, keeping her from the sword. He started dragging her away from her belongings. She struggled as she was dragged for about twenty feet to a private room. Norook followed the whole time, glaring at her and threatening to jab her with the sting. In the room was another demon, this one female. She might have been one of Mephala's had this been Nirn, for she had the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a spider. Nathiel then threw Belinda against the far wall and took her right hand. He stabbed a dagger through her palm and into the wall, making her scream in pain.

 _Well, at least it's not my left hand,_ she thought wearily. She soon sensed another presence, one that was large, strong, and commanded obedience. The doorway enlarged, making room for Skorn himself. Belinda's eyes widened, and she quickly reached to try and remove the dagger from her hand, but it was lodged in the wall and trying to remove it hurt worse than her knee.

"So, this is her," Skorn growled.

Belinda looked at him.

"She's scared. Good." Skorn leaned in to peer closer at her. She grabbed her jaw and forced her head back further. "A pretty little thing, still only 17 winters old." He leaned over and licked the blood leaking from her left hand. "Virgin."

 _Oh, fuck my life,_ Belinda thought.

Skorn pulled away. "I'm only going to ask you this once: Where is Karrin Ivory-Wing?" he demanded.

Belinda looked him in the eye and honestly replied, "I haven't a single, fucking clue where the fuck he is."

Skorn locked eyes with her. "Unbelievable. You're his protégé."

"Look, he flew up to some mystical star thing and vanished," Belinda pointed out. "I don't know where it is."

Skorn snarled.

"Look, I know you kinda hate each other and all, but can I please have my stuff back and go? I have a life you know," Belinda huffed. It was worth a shot, and she was being honest and polite.

"No, you may not go," Skorn answered.

"Well…" Her vision started blurring and spinning. Her right hand wasn't even moving. It hurt too much. She felt pile rising and she turned her head to throw up. This was only getting worse. The pain started to overwhelm her, and she blacked out…

Her fingers twitched. Pain shot up her right arm. Her hands were bound above her head and she was laid out on a table. All she could think upon waking was: _What fucking now?_ Her right hand felt mangled and she was admittedly afraid to look at it. Not that she could, so she was grateful for small miracles. Once enough sense returned to her, she knew immediately she wasn't alone. Nathiel and Skorn were with her, watching, waiting on her. Belinda didn't need to be a telepath to know that they were going to torture her, and maybe rape her too. _Well, at least I'm getting rid of that pesky virginity,_ she thought. _I watched_ _ **Hocus Pocus**_ _too much…_

"Finally," Skorn growled. Belinda looked to him. He had taken a more human shape, but was still clad in Hellish armor. "Now the real fun can begin. Nathiel?"

Nathiel moved to a metal table with various tools of torture on it. Belinda dared to look. Syringes full of poison, razor sharp knives, large shears, a bone saw, and a few other things, one of which she was sure meant she would get water boarded. Nathiel picked one of the syringes and came over. The poison inside was a scarlet color. Belinda tried to struggle, but he held her still enough to inject the poison. She felt the effects immediately and started screaming as a burning sensation shot up and down her left arm. The burning was accompanied by the feeling of needles poking her skin, causing a painful itch. She shrieked and squirmed, though the burning feeling didn't leave her arm. The itch did. She made a sound of irritation and discomfort, trying to scratch away the itchy feeling. Her right fingernails scratched her palm, which was a bad idea. Her nails pulled the stitches and ripped one out, making her shriek in pain. Why hadn't that been covered? She screamed again, though the words were incoherent. They knew the stream of curses she was letting loose.

Several hours of excruciating pain, irritation, and several choice words that would make the most seasoned pirate turn red, Belinda was a shaking, bloody messy. On her left arm, the word _bitch_ was cut into her skin. When Nathiel had done that, she gave a smug, but pained grin, and said, "Why thank you; I am a bitch, and you're a monkey's ass." She felt she could have done better, but that got her moved to the wall, facing it, while the back of her top was ripped open and she was whipped bloody.

* * *

 _You can do it, Belinda Rosalyn Scale, you can do it,_ she told herself tiredly. She looked over to the table. Just about everything had been use. Electricity, the water boarding thing (which nearly killed her), the knives, the bone saw that had been used to cut into her left kneecap and screw up more, and the shears that removed her right ring finger. All the syringes were empty except for one. The liquid was inky black, which wasn't a good thing. All the poisons had caused pain. This one was death. Nathiel reached for it, fiddled with it. Fear welled up in Belinda, making her nauseated again. She wasn't sure she had anything left in her stomach. She swallowed hard, refusing to give in. They wanted her to beg for it. Like. Fucking. Hell!

"Set that done, Nathiel," Skorn ordered, at last. He rose from his seat and approached Belinda. "It is high time I had a little fun."

 _Oh, HELL THE FUCK NO!_ Belinda thought wildly. She struggled, pulled at the shackles and chains holding her wrists. Skorn reached for the neckline, gripping it tight. He ripped the fabric and grabbed the shears to cut off her sports bra. _MIRACLE WOULD BE NICE NOW!_ Nathiel turned to the door, which suddenly slammed up, drawing everyone's attention to it. Dione, Lucien, three demon hunters, and a male angel entered the room.

"Took you assholes long enough," Belinda gasped, throat raw from screaming.

"How about a thank you," responded the white-haired demon hunter in red.

Lucien's eyes shone teal, and he levitated the metal table, slamming it into Skorn's face. Skorn dropped the shears and tried to grab the table, but Lucien was fast and clever and kept smacking Skorn around. Demons poured in, and Dione rushed to Belinda's side. One of the female hunters, this one with dark hair and in a green skirt, took care of Nathiel, who summoned saporlings to defend himself. The angel and the other hunters fought the demons. Dione took out a file made from Skysteel and diamonds and started working the cuffs around Belinda's wrists. She looked her friend up and down.

"You look like you got run over," she commented.

"And you look like the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Belinda chuckled. "I'm in a lot of pain. I need to see a healer on Ravnica. The Selesnya Conclave has the best healers. They can fix my knee."

"What do we tell them happened?" Dione asked.

"Rakdos freaks," Belinda answered.

Dione nodded and removed a few belt to make a brace for Belinda's severely damaged knee. Belinda worked to get herself looking at least semi-decent before getting up. She relied on Dione to help her limp out. A demon lumbered in front of them, blocking escape. That's when the angel swooped in, slamming his tower shield into its face. He thrust his powerful wings until he knocked the demon back.

"Hurry to the exit!" he shouted.

Dione nodded and helped Belinda along. Lucien had their backs, summoning phantasms to attack the demons that came after them or illusions to lead others away. They reached a portal that led to the mortal realm. The sounds of battle echoed behind them. That's when Belinda remembered her gear was still somewhere in this rat hole of a dungeon!

"My gear!" she exclaimed.

"Already taken care of," Lucien assured. "It's all in my bags."

Belinda smiled. "Thanks. What would I do without you?" she asked.

"Not much, now let's get out of here and to Ravnica," Lucien answered.

Dione then lifted Belinda into her arms and carried her through the portal. Lucien followed. Once in the mortal real, they waited. Soon, the Angel and the demons hunters joined them. The Angel sealed the portal, and landed. The glow he had had was gone, drained. He had used too much magic to open the portal and keep it stable.

"You alright?" the white-haired hunter asked.

The Angel shook his head. "I used too much energy," he answered. His ivory wings dulled to a soft grey. He let his sword and shield drop and removed his helm. The man underneath could have been Karr, but his features were older and more commanding, not to mention his pupils were black like any other Angel of Heaven. Karr's pupils were white. Belinda knew who he was: Karr's father. R'Arron Ivory-Wing. They had never met, but they knew who each other was. "I'm more concerned for Miss Scale," he told the hunter.

"I'll be fine once I get some healing," Belinda assured. She looked around. "I believe some introductions are in order. Except Dione, Lucien, and R'Arron." She looked to the hunters. "You three I don't know. I'm Belinda Scale. You are?"

"I'm Dante," the white-haired man answered. "My pop and your old teacher Karr were friends back in the day."

"And your father is…?"

"Sparda."

"No shit?"

Dante nodded.

* * *

 _Ravnica…_

The two women were Lady and Trish, and after a brief exchanged, Dione, Belinda, and Lucien really had to be off. They Planeswalked, and Belinda had to limp across the Blind Eternities to Ravnica. When she did, she face-planted into a wall and felt a crunch. Blood gushed from her nose and she cursed loudly. Dione entered up across the street and Lucien was a block over. Belinda stayed put and waited for them to retrieve her. Lucien knew where to go: Vitu-Ghazi.

Dione chased down a Centaur taxi to take them there. Lucien provided coin, but the Centaur saw Belinda's grave wounds and refused pay. As he took them to Vitu-Ghazi, Belinda, Dione, and Lucien saw the Izzet League doing work. The group they past got Belinda's attention and she nearly fell over trying to catch a glance.

"What?" Dione asked.

"I sensed a Planeswalker among them," Belinda answered. "Powerful one. Storm mage."

Lucien reached out and found the mind of the one she mentioned. Ral Zarek, high ranking member of the Izzet League. Inventor, powerful storm mage as Belinda stated. Weak control, kept in check by equipment. The Lynx filed that information away for later use. During the ride, Belinda plopped her head on Dione's shoulder and was out. When they arrived at the Selesnyan Guildhall, Lucien led them to an old friend of his. He used telekinesis to lift a stone to knock at the door of a cottage there. A beautiful Elf with soft blond hair answered, wearing a dress of silvery-white and green.

"Lucien? What a surprise!" the Elf exclaimed.

"Long time no see, Emmara," Lucien greeted. "I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but my friend Belinda is hurt bad and her lower leg might fall off. Can you help?"

Emmara Tandris saw Belinda in Dione's arms. "Of course! Please, bring her in!" She moved aside so Dione could slide in with Belinda. Emmara led them to a soft, comfortable bed and helped lay Belinda on it. She went to work as Lucien shut the door behind them. He trotted over.

"When did you rejoin the Conclave?" he asked.

"Recently; Trostani herself called upon me," Emmara answered, voice soft. She started removed the ruined clothes from Belinda and started cleaning the wounds and giving her medicine. She needed to be sure she wasn't closing any of them with infection in the blood. It took the entire afternoon and well into the night and a great deal of her energy, but Belinda's leg was at no risk of falling off anymore. There was nothing that could be done for her right ring finger. That was gone. There was light scarring on her back, but at least she wouldn't have to live with the word _bitch_ scarring her arm. Emmara had made mending that her top priority after the kneecap.

"Will she be able to walk?" Dione asked after Emmara was spent.

"She will, but may have trouble at first," Emmara answered, voice even softer, and betraying exhaustion.

"Rest, my friend," Lucien told her. "You're tired. Dione and I will move Belinda to a clean bed."

Emmara nodded with a soft smile. "Thank you." She left the room to sleep. Lucien did as he promised with Dione's help. The few wounds Belinda had were cleaned and covered and she now wore a clean, white nightgown. Lucien and Dione moved her to a clean bed and tucked her in to sleep. Dione flopped on another bed and was out almost instantly. Lucien curled up at Belinda's side, keeping her warm and safe…


	14. Chapter 14: Winter Falls

_Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 30_ _th_ _of Second Seed, 4E202_

Belinda bit the wooden spoon held between her teeth as she made a sound of pain. She was certain by the ending the physical therapy, she'll have snapped the spoon in half! She was laying on her bed in the Palace of Kings, Karliah holding her left leg up and bending it at the knee to get the limb to function properly again. It hurt like a bitch, but it was essential to getting back up and rejoining the fight. The more time Belinda remained laid up, the more time the legion had to plan a counter attack, get reinforcements, arm themselves, or even destroy Dragon's Bridge to keep the Stormcloaks from safely enter Haafingar! So, Karliah came with slaves and potions to fully restore Belinda's leg. Emmara's magic helped only so much, and she was one of the most powerful, non-Planeswalker healers Belinda had ever met.

She screeched past the spoon as Karliah pushed her calf against her thigh and held it there for a minute before letting up and straightening the limb. Oriana winced as she watched, pouring boiling hot water from a large, metal kettle fresh from the fireplace and into a waiting bowl. Dione brought a towel over and soaked it in the water. She wrung it out and wrapped the hot towel around Belinda's knee to sooth the pain. Belinda let out a groan of relief.

"Are we done?" she asked.

"For now," Karliah answered. "I don't know why you insist on getting back out there after what you've been through."

"That _why_ I need to get back out there," Belinda pointed out. "I am not going to sit around feeling sorry for myself or thinking about the Hell I went through." She looked to her right, forcing it to curl up into a fist. Those muscles and bones ached at the movement and twitched. Not to mention the nub where her ring finger had once been. The damn bastards. Not that it mattered too much. She wasn't right-handed. She would be fine without it. "We're at war and the longer I lay here, the harder the war will get."

"The Stormcloaks already had four holds at the start and the rest have all fallen easily at after Whiterun," Hilda pointed out. "It's just Haafingar now."

"The imperial capital of Skyrim," Belinda grumbled. "Just a few things: Solitude sits on a mountain, can block access to its harbor, the fastest and easiest way into the hold is Dragon's Bridge and they could destroy the damn bridge to keep us out and thus make us enter through the Reach, which would result in more death and injury than we need…"

"Okay, we get the point," Hilda sighed.

"Why doesn't Ulfric move without you?" Oriana asked.

"I think he's afraid to move without his trump card," Dione answered, switching out the towels. "Belinda has skill, she has her Voice, she has two Dragons who dote over her, and she's a very useful mage." She sat back. "Not to mention Nathiel is still loose and killing people all over Skyrim."

"Why did he even join the Dark Brotherhood?" Lucien wondered. "I can see some of the advantages, like Shadowmere…"

Ulfric and Galmar came rushing in, the latter slamming the door open and reporting, "Winterhold has been captured by the empire!" Everyone jumped and turned, eyes wide in shock. Dione came forward.

"What?!" she demanded. Winterhold was her domain. "What happened? Is the college still standing?"

"A courier arrived moments ago," Ulfric explained. "The Imperial Legion appeared in the night under mist and came up the cliff path from the sea. The civilians are all under house arrest and Jarl Korir and his family were killed, even young Assur."

Dione's small ears drooped, a look of sickness and despair on her face. She had placed her hopes for Winterhold to have a better, brighter future on the boy. Now he was dead with his parents. "And the college?" she asked. She was certain she knew the answer.

"Under Thalmor control," Ulfric answered.

"Rat bastards; they've already tried to destroy my college once," Dione snarled. "I won't let them do it." She glared into a fire, thinking. "I need a plan. Lucien, I need a map of Winterhold, building interiors, the College, and Midden included." Lucien nodded and Dione felt small pinpricks were the lynx pulled her memories of Winterhold from her mind. He created an illusory map of the village, college, and the all interiors. Dione turned to it, examining each piece. The mages, apprentices, guards, and civilians were accounted for. "Eliminate guards, the Jarl, and his family." Lucien did so. "Plant ships and boats here and here." She had pointed to the base of the cliff where it met the sea and northeast of the college. Lucien as she bid, placing them where he believed the ships would be. "As I figured. They'll be blocking the northwest side of the arch with ships and relying on the narrow river to the northeast to prevent an attack from below and by sea. The secret entrance to the Midden is too high up to climb, and I suspect there will be archers and enemies within to prevent us from coming up. The bridge is too narrow and won't support any force sufficient enough to retake the college. Not to mention around the village of Winterhold will have plenty of soldiers." She scanned the area. She looked to Karliah. "How good is your lowlight vision?"

"Better than yours," Karliah answered.

"And any pure-blooded Altmer will be better than mine, so forget a night attack," Dione groaned. She looked at the illusory map again and sighed. "We're gonna have to let Winterhold go."

"That's it? Let the empire have it?" Hilda asked.

"There are no options that won't result in a bloodbath on our side," Dione answered.

"Um, Dione?" Belinda started.

"Yes?"

"You still have me."

"You're in no condition to be charging into battle."

"I didn't say anything about go into battle."

Dione raised a brow. Belinda merely grinned.

* * *

 _Winterhold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 3_ _rd_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Belinda wore a knee-brace and a red leather glove on her right hand as she sat astride Allie with Astral mounted behind her and Spyro in her pack. The mare snorted uncomfortably and her rider leaned forward to stroke her neck. Four dragons sat on various perches around them, looking down at Winterhold and the college. Odahviing was perched beside Belinda and Allie, green eyes unblinking. Above them was an ancient, grey dragon with blue eyes, once named Paarthurnax. Belinda had renamed him Zeyiizyol (Brother Ice Fire). Above Odahviing was a white and blue Frost Dragon named Briifofus (Beautiful Frost Force) and to Zeyiizyol's right was a Blood Dragon named Feykrolovaas (Forest Song). Briifofus lowered her head to look at Belinda. She was curious of the Dragonborn, and not seen her up close.

"Can I help you?" Belinda asked.

"A-pol-lo-gees," Briifofus answered, her voice slow and deep. She had never really been good at the common tongue despite knowing it. "I am cor-ri-oos. I has nee-ver soon a hooman with a dro-gon soul vefore."

"I see," Belinda muttered. "Well, I Shout like a Dragon, I can speak like a dragon. Mostly. I just was to be born to the wrong body and language."

Briifofus nodded.

Belinda took out a spyglass, and looked down upon Winterhold. "I need someone to clear the weather."

Briifofus raised her head to the sky and Shouted, "LOK-VAH-KOOR!" The weather started clearing up, giving Belinda a better view of the village. Imperial and Thalmor soldiers patrolled the wide street and the perimeter of the village. Barricades were being put in place around the village, and they were the low quality pieces of wood like at Whiterun. They were being held together by metal and had metal spearheads. They planned to keep Winterhold, though Belinda had to wonder if this was a distraction for a possible attack on Windhelm. Either way, Dione wasn't going to let the Imperials and Thalmor keep Winterhold for any period of time, and no one could see into the college. Belinda lowered her binoculars.

"They plan on staying," she groaned, "and I can't see into the college." She started thinking. "Dione said there are doors on the roofs of the Halls of Elements, Attainment, and Countenance. So, who feels like giving rides to a bunch of humans?"

"Do we have to?" Feykrolovaas asked.

"You're gonna have," Belinda answered. "We have no other way to get into Winterhold College, which is essential to reclaiming the hold itself. We will need a dragon to distract the ground forces while the other three let our forces off on the roof." She brought up the binoculars. "Very few people on the college rooftops. Of course, who would expect an aerial assault? The Thalmor are arrogant and think a few archers and battlemages can hold off a dragon." She smirked.

"That still leaves the village itself and the ships down below," Astral pointed out, finally speaking up.

"The ships put themselves in an awkward position," Lucien told them, coming up to join them. "They can't move and are ill equipped to break through ice, and not a single sailor is a Nord."

"So they basically screwed themselves over," Belinda stated. "You'd think the Imperial Navy would be better equipped to handle these types of things, but nope. Time to report to Dione."

The dragons took flight to the camp southeast of Winterhold, assembled in and around a roadside ruin. Some of Dione's thieves camped there along with a few dozen Stormcloak soldiers. Belinda walked into the heart of the camp and saw Brynjolf beside Dione, a hand on her backside. Belinda cleared her throat, making the couple pull away from each other and pretend to be all innocent.

"Are we interrupting anything?" Belinda asked.

"Not at all," Dione answered, trying to be all professional and serious now. "So, what did you learn?"

"The college rooftops are lightly guarded, probably to guard against a single dragon if that," Belinda explained, going over to the table where several maps lay. "The imperials down in the village are preparing the place to stay: Heavy duty barricades held with metal and with spearheads; reinforcing the old buildings; and guarding the college bridge. According to Lucien, they've sailed themselves between a rock and a hard place. We have the advantages now."

"Four dragons, the best damn agents in the empire, and hardy men and women who can stand the bitter cold of the north," Dione agreed. The others gathered around, the dragons lowering their heads to the grates to hear. Lucien projected an illusory map onto the table. "So, Feykrolovaas, can you hear me?" Dione asked.

"I can hear you," the Blood Dragon answered.

"You're our distraction," Dione told him. "Lucien will plant the image of the Thalmor into mind. Anyone not wearing Thalmor robes or armor, _do not_ attack. And whatever you do, don't land. We don't know the Thalmor's numbers. You could be overwhelmed easily."

"I'm a dragon; I can handle it," Feykrolovaas assured.

"Just because you're a dragon doesn't mean greater numbers can't fell you," Belinda pointed out. "Do you want to know how Mirmulnir died? It certainly wasn't because I'm Dragonborn. We had better numbers and skilled warriors, archers, and a powerful mage. The Thalmor are trained killers in swordplay, archery, and magic. We'll say it again: Do not land."

"Okay, okay, fine," Feykrolovaas replied.

"Zeyiizyol, Odahviing, and Briifofus, you'll each be assigned ten soldiers and three archers," Dione continued. "While Feykrolovaas distracts the ground forces, land on the rooftops of each tower and eliminate the Thalmor forces there. Soldiers and archers, dismount each dragon and enter the towers. Kill the Thalmor, leave College staff, apprentices, and the library alone. Muster them and get them to help take back the college. Zeyiizyol, you'll be taking me to the Hall of Elements. I can seal off the college from there to prevent the legion from entering."

"I shall," Zeyiizyol agreed.

"After the college is taken, we'll clear out the Midden," Dione continued. "Dragons, we need those ships taken care of once the college is secured. We can use them to block any more intrusions from the sea. Next, I want the biggest storm you and Belinda can shout to weaken the Legion in Winterhold and eliminate the barricades. Lucien, can you give the residents warning to hide in their basements?"

"You bet," Lucien replied.

"After the storm, I need the dragons to pick us up from the college and deliver us outside the village. With the legion weakened and no barricades stopping us, we'll storm the place and finish off the enemy," Dione concluded.

"Sounds like a plan, Lass," Brynjolf said.

"Our little girl is a strategist," Oriana whispered to Hilda, who grinned.

"We move tonight!" Dione announced, getting cheers of approval.

Everyone got ready, strapping on armor and equipping weapons. Belinda, Ralof, Grete, Karliah, and Hilda worked on getting harnesses and clips on the dragons for the soldiers to hang on to. Belinda went to Odahviing with leathers and bolts to work on harnesses.

"I never thought I'd see dragons and mortals working together as equals," Odahviing commented.

Belinda looked over her shoulder, seeing Hilda and Karliah working on Zeyiizyol and Ralof and Grete working on Briifofus. "Times are changing." She climbed onto Odahviing's back and started working rope, leather, and clips into place. Spyro climbed out of her pack and went to perch on Odahviing's head. He chirped and whistled. Odahviing smiled at the young dragon. At sunset, the quartermaster started preparing dinner while Karliah took Ralof inside the ruin to work on his alchemy. Who better to teach him than a master alchemist? Meanwhile, Belinda worked on getting her body moving. She needed to be ready. She just sit on her ass and rest. She needed to be on the field with her fellow soldiers, to be there in case something went wrong. Ulfric came up to her, Dione with him.

"Even injured as you are, you still fight," he said, getting Belinda's attention.

"If anyone expected me to sit around doing nothing, then they're wrong," Belinda pointed out. "I refuse to sit around while my friends and shield-siblings get injured or killed, not when I can prevent their wounds or deaths." She looked to him. "What brings you here anyway? You should be in Windhelm preparing the city's defenses in case this is an elaborate distraction."

"I actually wanted to give your and Dione something," Ulfric answered. "I name you both Commanders. Dione, you're a good strategist and a damn good archer. Belinda, you inspire those around you by your mere presence and show dedication even in this clearly weakened state. By Talos, you even command the respect of Dragons. I am honored to count you both among my most loyal and dedicated soldiers." He handed them Stormcloak Commander Armor, made from the pelts of bears and Skysteel.

"You honor us, Jarl Ulfric," Belinda responded.

Once everyone was ready, they climbed onto their assigned dragons. Dione mounted Zeyiizyol, taking Ralof, Grete, Brynjolf, one of her thieves (Rune), and eight others, eight soldiers whose names she may never know. She, Ralof, and Rune were her group's archers. Their destination was the largest tower of Winterhold College: The Hall of Elements. It was where the college library and her personal chambers were. From there, she could seal the gates against the imperials to prevent reinforcements.

"You sure you want to do this? You don't have to kill if you don't want," she assured Zeyiizyol.

"I will be fine as long as I hold to the Way of the Voice," Zeyiizyol responded. "I spent 5,000 years in deep meditation to hold back my dark nature."

Dione nodded and grabbed his horns. They took flight first. Belinda was getting on Briifofus, who would not let anyone on her without the Dragonborn. She was taking Hilda, Oriana, Karliah, the thief Etienne Rarnis (whom Belinda helped saved; he wanted revenge on the Thalmor), Astral, a muscular thief named Thrynn, and five soldiers and an archer. Lucien rode on Odahviing along with a three thieves who made up the archers of his group, Vipir the Fleet, Cynric Endell, and Niruin. This left him with nine soldiers. Briifofus and Odahviing took off after Zeyiizyol, following him to the college. Feykrolovaas was already distracting the enemy, grabbing Thalmor with his talons and throwing them from on his. He even grabbed one in his mouth and threw him into a wall.

The college mages, apprentices, and staff were all holed up in the Hall of Elements, having sealed the doors while being in lessons and lectures when the first wave of Thalmor came. Anyone who had been unfortunate enough to have been outside the Hall was dead. Zeyiizyol landed on the roof of the Hall of Element, and Shouting his blue-white fire at the Thalmor. Those close to the low wall felt a force from the Shout and were knocked off, falling hundreds of feet to the ground or ocean. Briifofus landed on the Hall of Countenance, crushing a Thalmor under one foot and biting another in half. Odahviing landed on the Hall of Attainment, Shouting fire on the Thalmor there as he landed.

The soldiers and archers jumped off each dragon. The archers went to the wall to rain arrows on Thalmor below them. The soldiers stormed the Halls, except the Hall of Elements. The doors were seal by powerful magic. Dione simply walked over to the door to her chambers and used a simple spell to remove the seal. Once in her chambers, she was pleased to see the door to her chambers had been sealed as well, and so was the doors to the Arcanaeum. This meant everyone was down in the main hall. Dione led her forces there, and almost everyone was accounted for. She went right up to Tolfdir and Enthir.

"Archmage!" Tolfdir exclaimed, looking paler than usual, and Dione saw the bandages through a blood-stained slash in his robes.

"Tolfdir!" Dione gasped, going to help the old man. "Sit." She got him to a chair. The remaining staff and apprentices looked over, relief on their faces. They still had their Archmage! "Who isn't here?"

"J'zargo, Faralda, Colette Marence, and Phinis Gestor," Tolfdir answered.

"And soon you if this doesn't get treated properly," Dione mumbled. "We have people here ready to help. Ralof!" She moved over for Ralof to get through. "I'll seal the college." She went up to the focus point, eyes glowing a crackling lilac, lava-red, and icy-blue, and she raised her hands, muttering a spell. Soon, the focus point dimmed and extinguished.

Outside, the rest of the soldiers fought the Thalmor. The Thalmor were greatly outnumbered and had to deal with four dragons. Belinda saw the gate to the college close, sealed with magic, just as legionnaires arrive at the college. They could do nothing but watch their "allies" be slain.

* * *

 _Winterhold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 5_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

The bodies were dumped out the secret entrance of the Midden while the Dragons dealt with the ships. Then they and Belinda started a massive storm. The people of Winterhold huddled in the cellar of The Frozen Hearth. The massive storm destroyed the bridge to the college, collapsed a cliff on the Jarl's longhouse and Birna's Oddments, buried the abandoned, burned down houses; toppled the statue in the college courtyard, and knocked over most of the trees. When the storm finally ended, the legion was gone from Winterhold. The Stormcloak camp a few miles to the south of the village had retreated into the ruin. The storm had clear for them first and they managed to dig out. The four dragons shook snow and ice from their bodies and Dione reopened the college.

"I think I underestimated how strong that storm would be," Belinda muttered.

"Ya think?" Dione asked. "Look at this mess…" She went to get a proper look of Winterhold from the bridge, and came back. "You destroyed the bridge! How in Oblivion are people supposed to get in and out of this place?!"

"You guys needed a new bridge anyway," Belinda pointed out.

Dione cringed. "I have to make arrangements," she sighed. "With the Jarl and his family gone and no appointed heir, the people need a government. I'm the closest they're going to get."

Belinda nodded. She called the dragons down one at a time to take people to the outskirts of Winterhold. Most of the soldiers went first. Everyone needed to pack. Urag gro-Shub sealed the Arcanaeum with a sigh. He didn't want to leave his books behind, but he had to. Once in Winterhold, Dione led the excavation of the village to rescue the people. Birna cried, looking her home and everything she cared about destroyed. Her brother hugged her. Belinda pulled Kraldar and then Thonjolf out of the inn. Lucien had done quite a lot of digging to get the entrance to the inn out. Next came the innkeeper and his family. Kraldar went over to Dione, who was at the bridge.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"Belinda and the four dragons Shouted up a storm and underestimated the damage it could do," Dione answered. "The college is no longer accessible unless by a dragon, and good luck convincing one to agree to fly you over."

"So Winterhold is truly gone then?" Kraldar asked.

"Not lost, just a colossal mess," Dione answered. "Your house is still standing at least."

"It won't fix the rest of the village though," Kraldar sighed. He cared greatly for Winterhold, and wanted to see it better. He looked back to see people working to get the large tree that had collapsed over The Frozen Heath, chopping the branches and trunk. Belinda was directing people to gather the pinecones for kindling. Lucien and Tolfdir were using telekinesis to move the chopped wood to carts that the Stormcloak encampment brought up and the innkeeper, his wife, and the camp quartermaster were busy cooking food everyone. Any bodies that were dug up were laid out for burning and Ralof and Karliah were busy getting a shelter up for attending to the wounded. It took a few days to get the village unearthed, and Ulfric and Galmar came to assess the damages themselves. If anything, it seemed that now, Winterhold would never recover. The people gathered what they could and left Winterhold.

" _All's fair in love and war,"_ Lucien told Dione quietly. _"No war comes without a price to pay. I'm sorry it had to be your college."_

" _I am too,"_ Dione responded.


	15. Chapter 15: Waking Nightmare

_Windhelm, Eastmarch Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 14_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

A report came in that the historical Dragon's Bridge was destroyed and entrance into Solitude's harbor was significantly restricted. Combined with Winterhold's fall, it was an enormous setback and the Stormcloak troops in Haafingar Hold were forced to retreat into the hills. It was just one annoying setback after another, especially with Tullius clearly making moves out of desperation. Lucien's spies reported that the people of Solitude and the village named after the ancient bridge were less than happy, especially since the safest route in and out of the hold was essentially gone. So, it forced the Legion to focus their efforts on the weaker of the Stormcloaks' two ports: Dawnstar. For Nathiel, capturing the hold had been easy. He had master assassins at his disposal and had scared the locals into overthrowing Jarl Skald the Elder, though even Belinda, Dione, and even Ulfric thought Skald was an annoyance. So when Skald arrived, disgraced and exiled, he started riling up a storm. Belinda was tempted to Shout him through the damned doors!

Belinda leaned over and quietly asked Ulfric, "Can I use Unrelenting Force on him?"

It took all of Ulfric's willpower not to grin at the suggestion. He was tempted to Shout as well, except that might not have been a great idea. He knew Skald had no training in the Way of the Voice and Unrelenting Force would undoubtedly kill the man, if not break every bone in his body. Not to mention the blood would be impossible to wash out of the rug. "That would be murder," he responded in a whisper.

"Oh, I doubt a stubborn old bastard like him would die easily," Belinda pointed out. "In all seriousness though, my headache is starting to get worse, and I did not sleep well last night." She sighed. "She may support the Legion, but from Lucien's spy network, Brina Merilis has a good head on her shoulders and is favored by the people. She is a stronger leader than Skald ever was. I think we should consider letting her continue ruling the Pale once it's been taken back."

"And Skald?" Ulfric asked.

"We could have the people of the Pale put it to a vote instead of simply allowing Skald his place as Jarl," Belinda answered.

That thought intrigued Ulfric. "Let the people decide?" he asked.

"Yes; let them vote for who their Jarl should be, rather than let an arrogant, lazy asshole continue ruling," Belinda answered.

Ulfric nodded. "But first, we need to reclaim the Pale, before the empire has a chance to retake Hjaalmarch," he pointed out.

Belinda nodded. "I will help retake the Pale," she told him.

Skald was still complaining and whining, and finally, Ulfric stood, silencing him. "We will help you in reclaiming the Pale," Ulfric stated. "But you are to remain here in Windhelm. Two of my best commanders will go out and reclaim the Pale. Belinda Scale and Dione Desidenius will lead the troops."

"I don't know about the…Ahem, Dark Elf," Skald pointed out.

"I'll have you know I have worked hard to earn my position and Jarl Ulfric's respect," Dione responded, voice cold and eyes hard. She would not tolerate the bigot's behavior. "Unlike most of my kin here in Windhelm, I understand the need for hard work and will not rely on the pity of others to provide my shelter." She sounded like a true Nord, truer than Skald himself. Galmar was impressed. "And I'll have you know I can and will reclaim your hold, and dispose of the Dark Brotherhood, all things you are incapable of doing because you are a lazy, arrogant, unlikable, whinny sack of horse dung, and since you're no longer a Jarl, I can get away with saying such."

Belinda gave a low whistle. _That was harsh,_ she thought, trying not to start laughing.

Skald was rendered speechless, and Dione simply walked past him. She went to the chambers she was sharing with Belinda, Astral, Lucien, Grete, and Spyro to prepare for the trip into the Pale. Belinda, Lucien, and Astral followed. Spyro was curled up like a cat, asleep on a large, plush cushion by the fire when the group entered the entered. Grete looked up from her sword that she was sharpening.

"I cannot tell who is more insufferable," Dione grumbled, going to her trunk. She knelt, opened it, and pulled out her pack. "Skald or Dengeir." She started packing the essentials: Waterskin, spyglass, travel rations, two changes of clothes, her Nightingale armor, sword, and bow; her quiver of ebony arrows, tools, maps…

"Dione, are you going to be okay?" Belinda asked. Her friend had been in a foul mood since Winterhold.

Dione slammed her trunk closed. No. She was not alright. Nothing was alright. Nothing was ever going to be alright again. Winterhold was lost, her college sealed off. Where could mages go now to find acceptance and a safe place to study? It got worse: Dione had been born in Winterhold College. Colette as a teenager had delivered her, Faralda greeted her when she returned years later, Phinis was her Conjuration teacher that had taught her far more powerful conjuration spells, and J'zargo had been her friend and classmate. And the last time she had seen any of them was months ago, and she barely had time to say a proper word to any of them. If she had known that would be the last time she saw them, she would have cast aside her responsibilities as Master of the Thieves Guild, put the quest against Alduin on hold, anything to just talk to them. And to have been doubted by a mere bigot because of her race?! Dione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold the tears in, and felt Belinda hug her.

"If it'll make you feel any better, I could push Skald off a cliff," she said. "He'd make a very satisfying splat when he lands!"

Dione twitched, trying not to laugh.

"Oooh, a swift kick to the crotch is always funny," Belinda added, seeing her friend's lips tremble. "Or maybe we should put a whole lotta _frogs_ in his bed!" A snicker. "Oh! Oh! ITCH POWDER IN HIS SMALL CLOTHES!"

Dione laughed.

"I'll get the frogs, you make the itch powder," Belinda giggled.

Lucien gave a sort of smirk, shaking his head. _It's so easy to forget sometimes that she is still a child,_ he thought, _17, soon to be 18!_

Dione went to the court wizard's chambers to make some itch powder while Belinda and Lucien went off to find some frogs. Not an easy task this far north. They had to buy the frogs from a vender. They returned to the palace and met Dione outside of Skald's chambers. They girls giggled childishly and entered the room. Skald was sleeping, so this was easy. Dione carefully dusted his small clothes with the powder and Belinda put a half dozen frogs under the covers. They hurried out and waiting for screams and shouts. Lucien cast invisibility over them while they wait. Soon, the screams began. Skald ran out, shouting and flailing his arms. Belinda fell over, face red and cheeks puffed up. She let out a groan that came from her throat, which added a growl to it. Dione was giggle-snorting, hand over her mouth and an arm over her stomach. Lucien chuckled.

"We best be gone before he puts on his panties tomorrow," Belinda pointed out.

Dione and Lucien nodded in agreement, sneaking back to their chambers under Lucien's spell.

* * *

 _Nightcaller Temple, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 11_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Tullius was getting desperate. Nathiel knew this, especially since Tullius agreed to use scare tactics to capture the Pale, ordered the destruction of Dragon's Bridge, and ordered the execution of Jarl Korir and his wife and 13-year-old son. He was no longer afraid to piss off everyone in Haafingar and both Jarl Elisif and Legate Rikke were beginning to question his ability to command. Nathiel, on the other hand, continued to prey on Tullius's desperation to quell the rebellion. He found some Namira's rot and placed it in Tullius's room. He brought out the spores, giving the general nightmares full of paranoia and fear. As for scaring Dawnstar into running their Jarl out of the hold, Nathiel and his assassins barely had to do a thing. It seemed that the Daedric Prince Vaermina was doing a fine job of that. Her iconic staff, the Skull of Corruption, had activated and was fueling horrific nightmares, and it was starting to affect his assassins. Nathiel decided he needed that staff for himself.

He ventured up to Nightcaller Temple, and inside found a Dunmeri man in the robes of the Divine Mara. He was setting up a shrine to Mara inside the main hall and praying to the goddess for aid. He had not yet sensed Nathiel's presence, which gave Nathiel an advantage. He put on gloves and a mask, trying to hide scars and his rotted hand fueled by necromancy. He applied cologne to mask the smell. The priest rose and then saw Nathiel standing by the door.

"Are you lost, my child?" the priest asked.

It would be easy to play this fool. "I'm not sure," Nathiel answered, sounding breathless and weary. "There's a storm brewing outside, and this place was closer than Dawnstar. You, however, look very troubled."

"The people of Dawnstar are in danger," the priest explained. "The Daedric Prince Vaermina is using the Skull of Corruption to steal their memories and replace them with horrific nightmares. I have come to destroy the Skull and save these people, but…I need help reaching the Skull."

"Do you know the way forward?" Nathiel asked.

"Yes, and I know how to open the way to the Skull," the priest answered.

"Let's team up then," Nathiel suggested. "I'm fast and good with daggers. I can dispatch any dangers and get you close to the Skull." _And then take it for myself, Vaermina willing,_ he thought.

"You would do that? I welcome your aid then," the priest responded. "I am Erandur, by the way. May I ask your name?"

"Nathiel."

"Well, Nathiel, the far wall there has sealed the inner ruins for decades now, meaning it's kept a cloud of miasma in. Once the wall has been removed, the miasma will dissipate."

"And anything within will waken and attack us on sight?" Nathiel asked.

"Precisely."

They proceeded with care, unsealing the rest of the ruins. Erandur descried the history of Nightcaller Temple and what happened between fighting the Orc warriors that had raided the place to destroy the Skull and Vaermina's cultists. Upon reaching a barrier, Erandur knew what they needed to proceed: A book called "The Dreamstride." He had an idea; he just needed to know if it was possible. He unlocked the library, the two finding it destroyed, most likely by the Orcs, though Nathiel pointed out that the miasma may have degraded and scored the books as well. He found "The Dreamstride" and gave it to Erandur. The Dunmer flipped through the pages, scanning the pages.

"Ah, so my idea is possible," he reported. "We need a potion called Vaermina's Torpor. Once consumed, you can use dreams to travel great distances in the real world. However, it can only be used by the unaffiliated or followers of Vaermina."

 _Damn,_ Nathiel thought. _I will need to gain Vaermina's favor to proceed._ "But neither of us are unaffiliated nor worship Vaermina," he muttered. _I worship Sithis and the Night Mother, to an extent. It's a bit comforting to know the Divine here actually have power._ Gods on other planes turned out to be ancient Planeswalkers. Only a few he knew of had actual "gods" including Theros. He had spent some time there among the Disciples of Pharika, learning their potions and ways. He didn't worship Pharika; he had just wanted to learn.

"It would take too long to find someone that could drink the Torpor," Erandur sighed.

"What if I swear my service to her?" Nathiel asked.

"That might work, but she would know if you had an ulterior motive," Erandur answered.

"What does she care?" Nathiel asked. _Gods usually don't, no matter how much they meddle in the affairs of mortals, but I want the Skull._ "I will swear myself to Vaermina so I can drink the Torpor and proceed."

"It may be the only way," Erandur sighed, not quite liking this.

Nathiel gave him a reassuring smile. He knelt, praying to Vaermina…

" _Who dares?"_ asked a sweet, but cunning voice.

" _Hello, Vaermina,"_ Nathiel greeted. _"I am here to swear my services to you. Well, to be blunt, I just want the Skull of Corruption for my use in this plane of existence. See who is accompanying me to the Skull."_

" _Casimir,"_ Vaermina sighed, voice more sinister. _"He was one of my best. But he turned traitor. He did not embrace the sleep, but his treachery has turned into benefit. Drink my Torpor, and proceed. Once you reach the Skull of Corruption, allow Erandur to begin his ritual, then kill him. Beware my followers and the Orcs though."_

" _Of course."_ Nathiel rose. "Okay, we may be good to proceed," he assured Erandur.

"I hope so," the Dunmer sighed. He led Nathiel deeper into the ruin, to a destroyed alchemy lab. There more orcs and followers, both mad from the extended period of miasma-induced sleep. Nathiel went in, stabbing fast and in vital places. The orcs had weak spots and too many exposed areas while the cultists only wore robes. Erandur flinched every time a cultist fell. When the enemy was dead, they searched the lab, Nathiel taking the alchemical ingredients that were still in tack and finding a bottle of Vaermina's Torpor.

"Found a bottle," he announced, holding it.

"Excellent," Erandur sighed.

Nathiel plucked the cork out and brought the bottle to his lips. Erandur tensed, watching the other down the potion before shimmering and disappearing. Nathiel opened his eyes, ears hearing the sounds of battle. Before him was a white-haired Dunmer and a bald, but bearded Nord, both male. They spoke of releasing the miasma, left with no other choice. The Orc warriors were overpowering and killing everyone. The Dunmer, Varen, turned to Nathiel.

"And you, Casimir? Are you ready to sleep?" he asked.

 _I am Erandur,_ Nathiel realized. "Yes," he answered. No, Casimir answered. Forcefully.

"Then it is decided," the Nord, Thorek, agreed. "You will release the miasma."

Casimir nodded, and Nathiel felt a pang of anxiety. He didn't want to sleep. He wasn't ready, didn't want it. He thought about fleeing and leaving the cult to its fate, to let the Skull be destroyed. He ran through the fighting, past brothers and sisters and invaders. He reached the chain to release the miasma and pulled, hearing the hissing of the miasma being released. Before Casimir could run, the memory ended and Nathiel was standing on the other side barrier, which was being powered by a soul gem. He picked it up, watching the barrier vanish. Erandur ran up.

"That was incredible!" he exclaimed.

"Indeed," Nathiel agreed. _I need to learn how to make this potion,_ he thought. _It could be useful._

They descended deeper, stopping to slay cultists and Orcs. They finally arrived at the antechamber where Varen and Thorek awaited them. Of the people here, they were still of a sound mind, and they shouted at Erandur, called him a traitor. Erandur denounced his past as Casimir. He was Erandur, Priest of Mara. Varen and Thorek attacked, forcing Erandur and Nathiel to defend themselves. Erandur went at Thorek in a magical dual, the Dunmer using fire magic while the Nord attacked with frost magic. This left Varen to Nathiel, who was far faster than the cultist. It didn't help that Varen was useless with a weapon and malnourished. The cultists were easily dispatched.

"Varen and Thorek were my friends," Erandur sighed.

Nathiel nodded, feigning sympathy. Erandur then went to work on removing the barrier from around the Skull. Nathiel waited a few moments, excitement growing. When the barrier was removed, he struck. He reached around and stabbed Erandur in the chest. He fell to the ground, gasping and clutching at the wound.

"You've served your purpose," Nathiel told him. "Now the staff is mine." He reached down and removed "The Dreamstride" from Erandur's pack. "As is this. You have provided me with some very useful tools." He went and retrieved the staff. "The Dragonborn will never know what hit when she comes to retake the Pale in Ulfric's name." He chuckled sinisterly.

Erandur watched helpless as Nathiel took the staff and book. He couldn't…Let him…Escape…

He blacked out…


	16. Chapter 16: The Battle for the Pale

_Dawnstar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 15_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Clad in grey, silver, and white, Dione scouted the crags and overlooks surrounding Dawnstar. The wind her was strong and whipped about her, causing the furs she wore to ripple. Lucien watched from outside Nightcaller Temple, and above soared an eagle, watching the city. He'd managed to speak with the local wildlife to get them on their aid in gathering information. None wished to go near the Black Door now that the Dark Brotherhood was active again. Lucien planned to prowl there that night, but then something happened: Someone clinging desperately to life.

Dione made her way to Nightcaller Temple as swiftly and as carefully as she could. Three Frost Trolls stood outside the entrance. Lucien summoned phantasms and a polar bear to fight while he himself charged in. Dione took the third troll and practically incinerated it with arcane fire. After the trolls were dealt with, the bear went along its way and Dione and Lucien hurried inside. It wasn't hard to find the priest of Mara among the dead: He was an orc and his clothes were different from the cultists. Plus, his was the only mind present in the ruin.

They found him resting against a wall, his injury poorly healed and his body weak with pain, exhaustion, and blood loss. His breathing was weak, raspy, and labored. Dione recognized him as Erandur. She carefully got him over her shoulders and Lucien put illusions over them to get them safely back to the roadside ruins where their force had set up camp. Ralof, Karliah, and Brynjolf looked up and hurried over.

"Lass, what happened?" Brynjolf asked.

"It's Erandur," Dione answered. "The priest of Mara who once mended my dislocated shoulder. We found him in the ruins over Dawnstar."

They got him inside the ruins over to where a medical area had been set up. With Karliah's aid, Ralof carefully tended to Erandur's injury. Belinda came over out of curiosity; Lucien explained what happened, naturally suspecting Nathiel was involved somehow. Belinda was getting really sick of Nathiel's interference. When Lucien was done, they heard screaming. Belinda, Dione, Lucien, Astral, Grete, and Brynjolf rushed to the entrance to see a small child killing soldiers with blood magic. Blood dripped from her chin. She gave a devious little smile, showing off her fangs. It was no child, but a vampire. Children vampires were always more dangerous than adults. Grete drew her sword, remembering her father had been killed by a vampire when she was younger, before the Thalmor took her mother away for praying to Talos for the strength to hunt down and kill the vampire.

"You wouldn't kill a child, would you?" the vampire asked.

"You're no child," Grete sneered.

"A shame; you're really pretty too," the vampire sighed, and quickly struck with blood magic.

Grete yelped as her sword hand burned in pain. She dropped her sword and the vampire came at her. Dione stepped in, bringing up a ward of fire. The vampire screamed in pain as she collided with the fire ward. Lucien came up and bit into her ankle and yanked her away from Dione and Grete. The vampire slammed into the ground hard. Lucien snarled her, fur standing. The pain in Grete's hand faded to a small, dull ache. She shook out and grabbed her sword again. The vampire stood, giggling.

"Nathiel _did_ warn us about you lot," she pointed out. "Did you really think I came alone?" The other assassins appeared. Two Bosmer, three Dunmer, a Nord, two Bretons, two Argonians, an Orc, and a Cyrodiilic in fool's clothing.

"Oooooh! You're all finished!" the assassin in fool's clothing cackled. "We even killed most of your men except those of you inside! You stand no chance!"

"What are you going to do? Make us laugh to death?" Belinda asked.

"Oooooh! The Dragonborn has a smart mouth, she does!" the fool laughed.

Belinda rolled her eyes. She wasn't amused. Lucien had already counted the assassins present: Thirteen. Thirteen trained assassins who could move fast and light, strike in and out, up close and from afar, and a vampiric blood mage against her, 10,000-year-old lynx telekinetic, a trained soldier, an Aetherborn with no combat training, a master thief who was a master of dual-wielding, and a Dunmeri arcane archer. In all fairness, they were on even ground, especially if Karliah came out, but Belinda still had her doubts. The assassins clearly knew the area better and no one knew where Nathiel was.

" _Lucien, I don't like our odds,"_ she admitted.

" _Nor do I,"_ Lucien responded. _"I've sent a mental distress call to the local wildlife, and I fear Odahviing will not make it here before some of us die."_

"You have no plan, do you?" the vampire asked. "Oh well. Kill them," she ordered.

The assassins came at them with blades, arrows, and magic. Of course, that's when two large, black beasts appeared, the largest of the pair slamming into the three assassin mages. Both Bretons and a Dunmer tumbled down as the werewolf tore into them. The smaller black werewolf went after the Bosmer archers, taking three arrows. A large, golden werewolf leapt in, going after the Orc. Belinda liked these odds better and drew Dragonbane. She got locked in combat with the second Dunmer. Brynjolf and Dione went after the Argonians. One was a mage wielding fire. Dione handled that one while Brynjolf got into a slow-paced knife fight with the other. Astral spent the fight dancing around the fool, trying to get a hand on him enough times to drain his life force away. Lucien went after the Nord assassin, using illusions and phantasms to get around to claw and bite the man. This left the vampire to Grete. The vampire took one look at the redhead and fled. Grete pursued.

The vampire was fast, racing into Dawnstar screaming that an insane Stormcloak rebel was trying to kill her. The Imperial soldiers stationed in Dawnstar looked up and saw Grete. They drew bows and aimed at her. Grete slid to a halt and ducked behind the inn just in time to evade the arrows. She quickly hid among the crags as the soldiers started searching for her. If she moved, the soldiers would see her and kill her. If she stayed where she was, it was only a matter of time before she was found and either killed or taken prisoner. Grete looked around for a way out, and spotted the snowberry bushes hiding a grate of some kind.

 _Oh, convenient,_ she thought, caring slipping into the bushes and through the grate.

She entered a cold, dark passage behind a stained glass window in Sithis's image that looked out into a large eating area. Grete looked through the window and saw the vampire enter. The vampire was furious about not having sensed the werewolves. She stomped off and Grete carefully opened the window, stepping out into the sanctuary. She followed the vampire, her footfalls soft. The vampire must have been confident the soldiers had killed Grete because she had gone to sleep in coffin.

Grete found some rope, chains, lantern oil, and a silver dagger. She took a deep breath and stabbed the vampire in the heart. The vampire shrieked in pain and Grete quickly closed the coffin, binding it with the rope and chains. She heard pained screaming and pounding on the lid, which turned to soft, childlike pleas. Grete pulled on the lantern oil and set fire to the coffin. She back away, hearing inhuman screams. She held her sword in case the vampire managed to break free and come at her. The vampire never did. On her way out, she found the Night Mother. She torched the hideous thing, hearing a scream.

* * *

 _Dawnstar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 16_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

"How did you even know where we'd be?" Belinda asked Sieghard the following morning.

"Lucien has been keeping me up to date," Sieghard answered. "Aela told me that some of the Dark Brotherhood had survived and had set up base outside Dawnstar. When Lucien told me where you would be, we came as backup. Especially since we know Nathiel is one of them."

Belinda smiled. "Thanks for coming." She looked to Dawnstar and sighed. "Would you help us reclaim Dawnstar?" she asked him. "I know you can't get involved in the war, but our troops were murdered and it would take too long to send for reinforcements, especially with Ulfric leading his army to Haafingar Hold now."

Sieghard sighed, and looked to the twins. "What do you two think?" he asked.

"I say we help our little sister," Farkas answered.

"Agreed," Vilkas replied.

Sieghard looked to Belinda. "Looks like you have our aid," he told her.

"Thanks; we won't ask you to come to Haafingar with us though," Belinda promised.

"Belinda, I'm coming with you whether you like it or not," Sieghard pointed out. "I don't like that you're only 17 and a soldier. From here on out young lady, you stay behind me in battle."

"What are you, my dad?" Belinda asked.

"Well, someone has to step up to the role," Sieghard answered.

Belinda blinked. "Okay then. You're Dad from now on."

Sieghard hugged her, the two of them sighing. "You're too young for all of this," he told her.

"Yeah, yeah," Belinda mumbled tiredly. "How's Aela?"

"Coming along; just two more months," Sieghard answered.

"Scared?"

"Very."

"You'll be fine."

Grete ran over to them, tired and exhausted. They turned to her. "What happened?" Dione asked.

"I got the vampire…And I think I killed the Night Mother," Grete answered.

"What?!" everyone exclaimed.

Lucien read Grete's mind the see the truth. It was real! "She did," he reported. "She actually killed the Night Mother. Without her, the Dark Brotherhood cannot function. They can't receive their contracts. Now we have to kill Nathiel and hope Sithis is silenced forever."

"But he's armed with the Skull of Corruption," someone rasped. The priest Erandur was on his feet, clearly in pain still despite the medicine and healing he received. He looked broken and lost. Ralof went and helped him.

"Vaermina's artifact," Lucien sighed. "You take away one dangerous artifact, he manages to get ahold of another. For all we know, he's going to go after Daedric artifacts."

"He is really quite a pain in the ass," Belinda groaned, folding her arms over chest and thinking. Her right forefinger tapped against her left, upper arm. "We don't even know where he is now, which is a problem. Let's just retake the Pale and then take one of the Imperial ships. We can sail it into Solitude's harbor. We can plant Lucien there to open the gates when the final battle begins."

"A smart move," Lucien pointed out. "I even know a secret way up into the city itself from the harbor, and can survive off fish from the market."

Belinda smiled and nodded. "I know you can," she said. "Then we can join Ulfric's and Galmar's forces outside of Fort Hraggstad. The Imperial forces will be completely cut off."

Everyone nodded.

"How do we take Dawnstar without our forces though, Lass?" Brynjolf asked. "Those soldiers down there outnumber us."

"I'm going to assume they'll be aiding us," Karliah answered, pointing to a force of wild animals that came up. Some saber cats, bears, elk, a couple foxes, and a pack of wolves approached them, their fur white as the snow around them. An eagle landed on the antlers of one of the elk.

"Yes; yes they shall," Lucien chuckled.

"Well Dione, you got any plans?" Belinda asked.

"I'm thinking sneak attack at night," Dione answered. "With how small our numbers are, the eagle and foxes can provide a good distraction to those overwhelming one of us, either by swooping in or biting ankles. The other animals will need a way to not mistake us for the enemy forces though…How do we manage that?"

"Warpaint that is scented to overpower the smell of blood," Belinda replied. "I had traveled to a place where the warriors worked alongside warhounds, and they painted themselves and their hounds with scented war so their dogs wouldn't be confused."

"That is pretty genius," Dione complimented. "So, what can we use to overpower blood?"

Several hours later and everyone's armor or fur were painted to block out the smell of blood and to let the animals know who their allies were. By then, it was sunset and the guard patrol was getting ready to change. Lucien snuck into the town and started making the civilians bar their doors and sleep soundly. The task was easy because almost everyone was exhausted from the ordeal Erandur had told them about. The people would not leave their homes to fight. Then the group struck the clearly superior force.

Dione and Karliah took positions above each of the mine entrances and launched arrows at the soldiers, dressed to blend in with the snow and stone. The soldiers guarding the road into town saw two elk running toward them. They thought nothing of it at first until the elk sped up, heads down, and antlers pointed at them. The elf plowed through the soldiers and tossed them aside. The eagle circled overhead, screeching. Belinda and Grete rode in on one bear while Brynjolf and Astral rode in on another. Lucien led half of the wolves in from the shores by the Black Door while the other half came up from the other side of the small harbor. Erandur and Ralof hung back to retrieve their allies and heal them if need be. Sieghard, Vilkas, and Farkas came from between the buildings in their beast forms. Sieghard immediately went near Belinda to keep her safe.

A soldier came up from behind Dione and tried to slay her, but her father's spirit appeared and stopped him. Dione spun around and drew her hunting knife to strike fast to the soldier who tried to kill her. She looked to see her mother struggling to keep three soldiers off her. "Go help Mom!" she told her father. The ghost saw Karliah needed him more and vanished, reappearing at Karliah's side with his sword. Karliah smiled and moved quickly with her own sword. Another soldier came at Dione, and got a face full of eagle batting and clawing his face. He fell back into a cart of rocks. Dione winced. _That had to hurt,_ she thought, _to death._

Astral managed to jump on someone, legs around the soldier's waist, and put their heads on his face. The man cried out, collapsing. At this point, Astral knew they would live for a very long time. They saw Grete get tripped and stabbed in the shoulder. She screamed in pain, Astral charged at the soldier who had her pinned and grabbed his neck. The soldier screamed, falling back and pulling out the sword. Grete shrieked in pain, and Astral quickly knelt beside her. Vilkas and Farkas covered them.

"Hold still, dear," Astral told Grete, who nodded. He channeled the life force he just took into healing Grete's wound and giving her a nice pick-me-up.

"Thanks," Grete sighed, getting up and feeling better than she had in a while.

"Of course dear," Astral responded, rising.

Belinda ducked under a sword as it was swung at her and charge-jumped into the soldier attacking her. She knocked him down and quickly ran him through. She heard a howl of pain from Sieghard and turned. A soldier had jumped on his back and stabbed him with a knife. Belinda inhaled sharply, and Shouted, "TIID-KLO-UL!" Time slowed to almost a standstill, and she felt very exhausted. She hated this Shout because it took too much energy from her. She killed the soldier, felt him slack, and pulled out the knife. She ran over to Ralof where time resumed.

"Ralof," she called, making him yelp and jump in alarm.

"How the-?! What the-?! Don't do that!" Ralof snapped.

"Sorry," Belinda apologized. "Sieghard's hurt!"

She led him to Sieghard, whose jaws were locked around a soldier's neck. Ralof went in and channeled healing magic into the wound. Sieghard dropped the soldier and looked to them. He nodded to them turned back to the battle. Belinda led Ralof around the field, keeping him safe so he could heal allies. Ralof drew his axe to defend himself and proceeded without her after a while. Belinda then focused on leading Erandur around the battlefield. The battle lasted about three hours. It would have been shorter had the Imperial vessel not docked and let out reinforcements. Once the soldiers were dead, they captured the ship and took the crew prisoner. Afterwards, the dead were gathered and burned outside the city. In the morning, the people awoke, confused. Belinda and Dione went to negotiate with Brina Merilis.

* * *

 _Dawnstar, the Pale Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 16_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Brina's housecarl and lover was not receptive to the idea of bowing to Ulfric, but he would follow Brina's lead. Brina chose to hear Belinda out, and had the whole town gathered to hear what the Dragonborn has to say. She had heard of the devastation at Winterhold and discover Belinda had led a smaller force against a superior one after losing her men to assassins. She discovered that the young woman was modest and gave credit where it was due. Dione and Lucien came up with the plans and the latter guided the animals, she had strong friends in the Companions who did great work, Astral, Erandur, and Ralof were excellent healers, she had two amazing archers, and skilled warriors.

"You're a stronger leader than Skald," Belinda told Brina. "Everyone here knows that, we know that, even Ulfric knows that. He's had spies watching Dawnstar: He knows that the people don't bother going to Skald because he's lazy, arrogant, and irritable. They go to know. We all want you to remain Jarl of the Pale."

"What does Ulfric get out of an Imperial supporter being Jarl?" Brina asked.

"Your vote in the Moot?" Belinda answered. "I know you question Jarl Elisif's ability to lead, and have wondered how much of her leadership has been influenced by the empire and how much is her own decisions. Elisif is young and has too much to learn, and was not born into the ruling family of Haafingar."

 _She's right,_ Brina thought. _Elisif is too young, inexperienced, and wasn't prepared for any of this._ She looked to the Dragonborn. _She can't be more than 17 or 18, yet I can see she has been through more than most men twice her age._ She sighed, and begrudgingly said, "You have the Pale's support."

Belinda smiled, looking so tired. "Thank you. You're going to be a great Jarl."

 _She's too young to be that tired,_ Brina thought. As people filed out, she looked to her partner. He was stoic as usual. "What do you think of her?" she asked him.

Horik Halfhand sighed. "Too young for all of this."

"I couldn't agree more."


	17. Chapter 17: The Sea of Ghosts

_Dawnstar, the Pale  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 17_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

It took some work, but they had convinced the crew of the imperial vessel to take them to Solitude Harbor. Lucien guaranteed they would be able to slip right into the harbor thanks to his illusions. Once they had the help, Belinda went to the inn to rest. She found some of the others already there, and Grete had downed three mugs of mead already was working on her fourth. Her face looked solemn. Not a good sign. Belinda went up and sat across from her.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

"That vampire destroyed my family," Grete answered. "I used to think it was just a vampire using charm and manipulation for its next meal. Now I know someone actually wanted my father dead and I don't know who."

"How did you get here?" Belinda asked.

Grete sighed. "I was ten," she started. "We lived over outside of Whiterun, running a little farm happily and always working hard. Father took the crop up to the harvest festival to sell and trade. I remember he took my mother and me with him and he and another farmer got into a heated argument. Thankfully, a guard was nearby and saw the other man hit my father. The man was taken away. A few months later, I was out playing when the vampire came up to me, pretending to shiver and be hungry, claiming she had run away from her abusive family down in Falkreath. I took her home and my parents welcomed her with open arms. That night, I saw her slip out of my room and go to my father, pretending she had a bad dream. I watched from the door and she bit in his neck and drained him. My father knocked something over, waking my mom, but Father was dead by the time she came out, armed with a sword from her legion days when she fought in the war. The vampire then escaped.

"My mother and I went to the nearby Shrine of Talos in mountains," Grete continued. "She prayed to Talos for the strength and cunning to hunt down the vampire and kill it. We heard shouting from nearby and she made me hide behind the shrine and drew her sword. The Thalmor came and subdued her, dragging her off. I never saw her again. I hopped several wagons all the way to Solitude to beg for my mother's release. The High King, Torygg's father, said there was nothing he could do. I was orphaned, alone, and by then probably homeless. When the High King did nothing but try to send me to Honorhall, I ran all the way to the Temple of the Divines where a priest of Stendarr took me in. There, I found my faith." Grete pulled out an amulet of Stendarr from under her shirt.

"I stayed on until I heard about the Vigilant of Stendarr, an order dedicated to slaying the Four Abominations. It worked out great at first. After a while though, it became apparent they were really only interested in slaying Daedra and their cultists more so than lycanthropes, undead, and vampires. After seeing Sieghard and the others, I know now that not all werewolves are malicious and not all wanted Hircine's curse and that the Silver Hand are bigger monsters than most werewolves, but I hope you understand why I'm weary of them still."

Belinda nodded. "There was a big screw up in mutual understanding between one of the older Harbingers and some cultists of Hircine," she pointed out. "At least, that's how Sieghard describes it."

"Quite the screw up," Grete commented. "Well, there was a Vigilant who was getting sick of the whole Daedra focus we had, and some of us agreed. By there, continental wide Daedra worship was halved at least and no one wanted to worship Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, or several other Daedra for that matter anymore. This Vigilant insisted that Vampires were a greater threat than Daedra, and given what I had been through with my father being killed, I agreed with him. Then he left after a falling out with the Keeper. Not long after that, I had a vision guiding me to Ulfric's cause, that my mother was still alive and I had to fight for her freedom. So, I ended up here under Ulfric's banner."

"If you were a Vigilant of Stendarr, why did the Draugr unnerve you so?" Belinda asked.

"I was never exposed to Necromancers and the Undead," Grete answered. "I was too busy hunting Daedra and Cultists to be concerned with that."

Belinda nodded.

"I've learned more and better since leaving the Vigilant of Stendarr," Grete pointed out. "Thank you."

"So, that man your father had a fight with; do you ever suspect that it was him?" Belinda asked.

"I never thought…But it's so far the only thing that makes sense," Grete answered, and let out a heavy sighed. "My father never hurt a soul. He wasn't even a soldier in the war. He was a healer. That's how my parents met." She brushed a strand of copper hair out of her face.

Belinda reached over and squeezed Grete's hand. "We'll find your mom."

"Thank you."

* * *

 _The Sea of Ghosts  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 19_ _th_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Dione and Lucien had warned of pirates on the Sea of Ghosts, though they were supposedly closer to Winterhold to focus on pillaging the remains of the tiny village, not that accessing the village via sea was a good idea anymore and Dione had sealed Winterhold College's entrances. The pirates would be wasting their time there. There was one ship that had a powerful mage that could make the sea completely unnavigable, increasing the mist, creating powerful winds, and causing rain, hail, and snow.

"Planeswalker or just a powerful mage?" Sieghard asked.

"I can't tell yet," Belinda answered. "We can only hope we don't encounter them, but if the weather is changed magically, I'll know. Then we'll know for sure if this is a Planeswalker or a powerful mages."

Sieghard nodded. He knew and understood that was the best Belinda could promise. At least they would have warning before things got bad. On the second day at sea, Belinda gave the alert as a thick fog rolled in unnaturally. She focused on the leylines far below them, trying to find the mage in question. North by northeast, and coming right at them! She alerted the others and everyone went to their battle stations. Lucien wouldn't make the ship invisible. The mage would still know where they were in the mist being invisible ran the risk of both ships going under. Soon, the pirates came into view. Dione charged a powerful fire, ice, and lightning spell. Once the ship was close enough, Belinda sensed the mage in question. He was, indeed, a Planeswalker.

"Shit," she hissed.

"Planeswalker?" Sieghard asked.

"Yep; strong one too," Belinda answered. "EVERYONE GET READY FOR BATTLE!" she shouted to everyone onboard.

The crew got the cannons loaded. The pirates fired first, naturally. Two cannonballs struck, blasting a hole into the captain's cabin and another into the main deck.

"Reuse the cannonballs if you can!" the captain, a tall Cyrodiilic man, ordered.

Dione launched her spell at the pirate ship, followed by their own ship firing cannons. Belinda drew on the carnelian's magic fling fireballs at the enemy ship. The heavy moisture in the air made it difficult for any flame to catch. Then the air went still. No wind to feed or spread the flames. The air chilled, ice surrounding their ship. The enemy vessel soon brought their ship alongside theirs and a gangplank soon bridged the ships. Pirates swung over and others came across the gangplank. Lucien unleashed phantasms to help in the fight and charged the nearest pirate, shrouding himself in invisibility. He danced around the confused pirate before jumping him.

Belinda's sides were guarded by Vilkas and Farkas, though she only needed it because Sieghard insisted and because pirates were dirty fighters. Bandits were too, but they were on land and pirates had sea legs. What didn't help the situation was the pirate mage, the Planeswalker himself. The man was a Merfolk, and Belinda was at first unsure which plane he was even from. Certainly not Theros. They had large fins on the backs of their heads and necks and this one actually had hair that was an inky black color that ended in ice blue tips that matched his ice blue eyes. His skin was cerulean blue and he had small fins behind the pointed ears, on his forearms, and the sides of his calves. He was dressed so that his fins were out and not bound, which including special, black leather bracers and boots. He was shirtless, though had pauldrons over his shoulder, black trousers, and a shawl made from the remains of an old fishing net. He had a spear of ice in his hands.

"G'day Miss," he greeted to Belinda.

"Sup?" Belinda responded, drawing Dragonbane. "So, what plane you from? You don't look like a merfolk from Theros, Zendikar, or Ravnica."

"Oh-ho-ho, so you're from beyond the sky?" the Merfolk asked, now circling Belinda.

"Yes; this isn't my native world, as it is not yours," Belinda answered, moving so the Merfolk would not catch her unaware. Vilkas and Farkas had moved away from her. "Two of my companions are Planeswalkers, one of them native. Either way, this world is one I do help protect."

"Interesting," the Merfolk muttered. "So why what's a Stormcloak doing on an imperial ship?"

"You're quick," Belinda said, tugging at his magic. It was very powerful weather magic, but with no thunder of lightning. It was just a combination of hydromancy, cryomancy, and aeromancy. She copied and stored it in the icy blue aquamarine on her keychain for later use. It might help them get into Solitude's harbor easier.

"You have no idea, Miss," the Merfolk chuckled. He leapt forward, bringing his ice spear in for an upper stab.

Belinda jumped to the side, but was struck in the chest when the Merfolk swung his spear to the left. The air was knocked out of her and doubled over in pain. The Merfolk moved his spear to bring the blunt end down on her head, but that was Lucien pounced at him, claws finding the exposed parts of his chest and sinking in. The Merfolk shouted in pain, moving his spear to shove the shaft into Lucien's mouth before the lynx could try ripping into his throat. He flung Lucien over, melting the spear and calling the water back to him. The spear reformed in his hands. He had mastery over his magic. Belinda was actually glad of that, because that made her a master of his magic as well if she used it. So, she used his magic to give her weapon reach, creating a spear with her sword and ice.

"Your magic is the same as mine?" the Merfolk asked, raising a brow.

"It can be," Belinda answered. "I can mimic another's mages talent to their skill level."

"Now _that_ is impressive," the Merfolk commented, and he and Belinda lashed out at each other, trying to spear and cut. However, Belinda only knew the basics of combat with a spear. The Merfolk was more practiced in fighting with a spear. They clashed, locked face to face. "Magic will do no good if you lack the combat skill. So while you can copy another's magic, you can't copy-."

"Physical skills," Belinda finished. "I know. Quick question though: Why are we fighting? We're Planeswalkers. We should be allies."

"Bad experience with other Planeswalkers, including a former employer," the Merfolk answered. "He was a nasty piece of work and his former employer was even worse. I would know. I spied on the damned dragon for over two years before I found out the Infinite Consortium crumbled. Then Bolas found out about me and nearly killed me."

"You worked for Tezzeret and he asked you to do what?" Belinda asked. "Fucking Hell." She stepped away, ending their fight. "I've heard of those psychotic fucks. Two of my mentors have told me stories about them. Malicious, cruel, and manipulative, to the core. There are others like them, but not everyone is."

"You're not like them I take it," the Merfolk said.

"I should hope not; I've never met the oversized leather handbag or Nasty Dreads, but I know I don't want to," Belinda pointed out.

"Oversized leather handbag?" the Merfolk chuckled. The fighting died down, and everyone turned to look at them. There was confusion and muttering.

"There is a morally bankrupted 'walker on this world right now," Belinda told the Merfolk. "I want him some form of gone for good. Asshole cut off a finger put me through all kinds of torture." She showed the Merfolk her right hand, showing the missing ring finger. "And burned my ankle, put scars on me, has hindered my progress more times than I can count, manipulated people into running their Jarl out of his hold, and the list goes on and on and on. Granted, Jarl Skald is an annoying asshole."

"Oh, yeah," the Merfolk agreed.

"Belinda Scale, by the way," Belinda introduced, holding out a hand.

"Zephyr," the Merfolk responded, shaking her hand.

"Pleasure."

"So, are we like friends now?" Dione asked.

"To be honest, I've been attacking imperial vessels because one of them has a very rare book on board," Zephyr answered. "My people are just interested in the loot."

"What book?" Belinda asked.

"Volume 4 of 'Mankar Cameron's Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes,'" Zephyr answered. "I am one book away from the full set. I want to study them."

"Oh, this thing?" Lucien asked, pulling a thin, leather bound book from his pack. The leather was painted violet with silver, studded covered corners and intricate writing in both Tamrielic and Daedric on the front cover and the spine. The pages were old, slightly rip and water-stained parchment. The words were printed, rather than written, indicating the book was worthy of mass production. The first letters of every paragraph were big, bold, intricate, and red, meaning custom letter blocks were used for them. "Fascinating read, very poetic. The first letters have a secret message."

"I thought so!" Zephyr exclaimed.

Lucien nodded. He passed the book to the Merfolk.

"Thank you kindly," Zephyr said.

"Well, this ended a bit different than I expected," Belinda muttered. "Well, we be off and on our separate ways?" she asked.

"Actually, do you need aid?" Zephyr responded inquisitively. "Now that I have amassed quite a collection of rare books and scrolls, I really have nothing better to do, and you lot are clearly up to no good. I want in."

"Welcome aboard then," Belinda said, smiling.

"He attacks us for a book and then turns around to help us," Dione muttered. "This is some crazy load of bullshit."

"I know right," Belinda responded.

"You're a crazy load of bullshit too," Dione added.

"I know that too."


	18. Chapter 18: Vaccine

_Solitude Harbor, Haafingar Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 21_ _st_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

Four ships stood at the entrance to the harbor with massive chains between them and guards patrolled the grounds near the lighthouse, whether on foot or by horseback. Everyone was armed with bows and arrows, ballistae, cannons, and fire. Even with Zephyr and Belinda using his magic, it would take a miracle to get into the harbor. They could cause a hurricane, but both agree that it was too risky for the ships. Water was too cold to swim in. So, they had to go by smaller boats under invisibility and very thick mist.

The crew of the imperial vessel remained behind while Zephyr left eight of his men behind. Everyone else rowed in boats of four boats of eight into the harbor and to the docks. Once docked, they took the soldiers posted there by surprise and knocked them out. They moved to the road over the East Empire Warehouse where there was a passage up into Solitude. Lucien bid them farewell and disappeared from sight. His invisibility went with him, leaving them to sneak through the mist to Galmar's camp well down the road from Solitude. The Stormcloak soldiers there looked at the pirated with weariness and suspicion as they settled in. Everyone went to the war tent where Galmar was. He was talking with a messenger.

"They're still two days away from Fort Hraggstad?" Galmar asked the messenger, looking up from the map.

"Yes Sir," the messenger answered, standing at attention.

"Then I will send a troop to meet them and-. Speak of the Daedra," Galmar commented, making Belinda give a pause with a stare and a raised brow. "You lot are right on time. Your group is needed at Fort Hraggstad. You're to meet with Ulfric's forces and capture the fort. Don't attack the dogs without Ulfric and his troops."

"What did dogs ever do to you?" Belinda asked, voice full of snark.

"You know what I mean," Galmar grunted. "Just head up to Fort Hraggstad and don't be seen." He looked around. "Where's the cat?"

"Up in Solitude to make sure we'll be able to get into the city," Belinda answered. "We'll see him in a week."

"Are your troops ready?" Galmar asked.

"Uh, about that…" Belinda muttered.

"The Dark Brotherhood eliminated our force," Dione responded, stepping forward. "All that remained were Ralof, Grete, Belinda, Lucien, Brynjolf, Karliah, Astral, and myself. Sieghard, Vilkas, and Farkas came in time to save us and the Dark Brotherhood was eliminated. We also rescued a priest of Mara named Erandur. While we were sailing here, we were briefly intercepted by Captain Zephyr of the pirate ship _Winter Storm_. He and his crew have agreed to help us in exchange for helping him acquire rare books and scrolls. He and his men are outside the camp."

Galmar sighed. "Those were good men Ulfric sent with you," he pointed out, looking back to the map. "Damn the Dark Brotherhood."

"Only Nathiel remains of the Dark Brotherhood," Belinda reported. "The Night Mother's body has been the destroyed and the assassins killed. No doubt Nathiel is planning something. The Thalmor and Imperials will be there, people will be in a panic, Nathiel has the Skull of Corruption along with his power make mushrooms come alive and spread spores to cause various effects…" She fell silent, and looked to Karliah. "The mushrooms that grow here in Skyrim, what are they and what can they do in potions?"

Karliah thought for a moment. "Bleeding Crown: Makes one weak to fire and poison, Blisterwort: Causes fatigue and susceptible to rage, Fly Amanita: More pros than cons but can induce rage, Glowing Mushroom: Completely beneficial, Imp Stool: Dangerous to one's health and can cause temporary paralysis, Mora Tapinella: Dangerous to health in high doses but a favorite in potions that enhance magic and illusion, Namira's Rot: Magic sapping and can induce hallucinations, but when treated right can be used in medicine; Scaly Pholiota: Weakens magic but when boiled can increase strength, Swamp Fungal Pods: When it's the outer shell made into a tea it be used to resist the effects of lightning magic and the core is good for one's health, but the guts and roots can drain your magic while the untreated shell can cause a temporary paralysis, and Whitecap: The stem causes weakness to frost magic and can drain magic in high doses, but the gutted cap can be dried and crushed to make a magic potion," she finally said. She was like a walking encyclopedia on alchemical ingredients. Then again, she was a master alchemist.

"So, we need to keep an extra eye out for the effects of Blisterwort, Fly Amanita, Imp Stool, Namira's Rot, and Swamp Fungal Pods," Belinda pointed out, and then heard a raven. She turned and moved to let one glide in. It landed on the table. There was a message secured to one of its legs. Galmar took out the message.

"It's from your cat," he pointed out. "He says things are bad in Solitude, worse than we had initially thought. Everyone is paranoid and barricading themselves in their homes. Even then, one couple actually killed one another and a body was seen hanging out of the window. Nightmares are plaguing the people and soldiers. The air smells of poison and General Tullius is going mad. And he mentions something about Saporlings patrolling and spreading spores. Look like Namira's Rot."

"Oh, fan-fucking-tastic," Belinda grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We can't attack Solitude like this. Let's just focus our efforts on capturing Fort Hraggstad and use the facilities to find a vaccine for our forces so we can safely attack Solitude."

"A wise decision," Galmar grunted. "There's just one thing…"

"One thing?" Belinda asked, raising her brow again.

"What in Oblivion is a Saporling?"

"Basically a plant-fungus hybrid monster thing."

"Oh, sounds charming," Karliah commented.

"Yeah," Belinda muttered. "The situation is shit all around. We need to improve our defenses."

"I can work on a vaccine if I have plenty of Namira's Rot and rats to work with," Karliah pointed out, putting her hands on her hips. "The Rot grows in most caves here in Skyrim, and rats are a common pest. We should be able to find plenty in the fort. Then it's a matter of making the enough of a vaccine from the components. If I could see firsthand what Nathiel is doing in Solitude…"

"I think this is one of those cases of 'no we don't,'" Belinda muttered. "Nathiel's magic is centered around plants and fungi. If I can get close to him and copy his magic, I can create saporlings out of Namira's Rot and have them produce the hallucinogen causing fear." She pulled out her keychain of gems and picked out a dark green stone with streams of brighter green. "Matrix Emerald should work to store the magic."

"Galmar, does the note say whether or not Nathiel is in Solitude?" Dione asked.

Galmar double-checked. "He is."

"I'll head to Solitude and scout the situation with Lucien," Belinda pointed out. "The rest of you head to Fort Hraggstad. I should be there in a few days." She exited the tent.

"Bells," Dione called.

Belinda looked to her.

"Be careful."

Belinda nodded and jogged toward Solitude.

* * *

 _Fort Hraggstad, Haafingar Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 23_ _rd_ _of Midyear, 4E202_

There was only one way into Fort Hraggstad and that was via the mountain road leading there. The portcullis was down with barricades erected in front of it. They were not cheap, petty barricades either: Made of Skyrim's sturdy pines and crown with steel spearheads, all bound with heavy chains. They had just met up with Ulfric's forces and were lying low. Meanwhile, a wet, heavy snow dropped from above. Dione frowned in annoyance, and then looked to Zephyr.

"I can get the gate open," she told him, "but we need to swarm the place. Can you please remove the barricades?"

"As ya wish," Zephyr responded. He whirled his arms in circular motions, causing the wind to pick up. He guided it with great care and some strain, resulting in the barricades getting blasted away and a soldier getting knocked off the wall.

Dione then moved in, bringing lightning, ice, and a telekinesis spell to her hand and whipping it out to top of the wall. She pulled herself in and climbed up. Two soldiers spotted her and charged, sword in hand. She took a deep breath and raised her hands at them, bringing a ward of fire up. The soldiers stopped too late and burned themselves to death. Dione ran to the lever and pulled it, opening the gate. The army swarmed the fortress and it was easily captured. It was lightly manned, which really bothered everyone. This close to Solitude, they expected more.

"Tullius's forces are thinning," Ulfric commented. "The rest of the imperial army must focused in Solitude now. This may have been a distraction."

"A much needed one," Karliah pointed out.

Dione informed Ulfric of what was happening in Solitude and where Belinda and Lucien were. Ulfric nodded understandingly. Galmar later joined them with his forces, explaining they had been driven out by the saporlings, which had followed them all the way to Fort Hraggstad. The saporlings stood at six feet tall with dirt-crusted roots serving as legs. The stems had peeled to former arms and their caps opened into mouths with root-like teeth and snake-like tongues. They emanated gaseous clouds of spores. The Stormcloaks quickly lit fires to burn the creatures.

"I have an idea," Zephyr told them. "If the air is hot, that allows gases and spores to move and spread. In a wintry climate like Skyrim, this can be problematic because then the air will be humid, which will support bacterial and fungal life functions. The caves of Skyrim are cool, but they're damp and get warmer the further you go in. So let's make it colder." His eyes and fingertips shone in an icy blue color. He raised his hands. It didn't take long for sweat to bead across his slick, blue skin. He was changing the temperature of the area. He was strong enough to do this, but it was still a strain on him.

The air became icy. The braziers were lit and furs were distributed. Zephyr's teeth chattered. Looking out, the saporlings were stiffening and shriveling, crumpling to the ground. The cold air was becoming too much for them and killing them. Dione counted them: Thirty-six. Now they were all dead. She turned to Zephyr, but gasped in horror to see he was on the ground, not moving. His skin was purple instead of blue! She shouted for help and he was moved to the bath house where fires were lit, rocks were heated, and the water was warmed. They set Zephyr into the warm water, and he sank to the bottom.

"Don't Fish Elves need to breath?" Galmar asked.

"They can, but they also need to be in water," Dione answered. "Also, Fish Elves? Seriously Galmar?" _No one's seen Maormer in almost a four years,_ she thought, _so no one really know what they look like anymore._

One hour and several hot rocks later, Zephyr awoke. He opened his eyes, the water film remaining over his eyes and making them look milky white. He blinked. He was underwater in a cave somewhere? The felt warm and comfy, and the surface was inches from his face. He looked around confused, trying to get his bearings. He felt the wall. Not an underwater cave. These were bricks. A sunken fort perha-? The memories came back. He had dropped the temperature within a fifty foot radius to kill off a bunch of saporlings grown from Namira's Rot. He clearly froze. A hot rock was added to the water, sizzling. He watched the water sparks dance off the smooth surface before sitting up.

"Oh! You're awake!" Dione exclaimed, holding a pair of tongs.

"Aye. Thank ya fer the bath," Zephyr responded. "Are we in Fort Hagstad?"

"Yeah," Dione answered. She held out a towel for him. She snickered.

"What's so funny?" Zephyr demanded.

"It's pronounced Hraggstad," Dione responded.

"I don't care if it's pronounced shabalaba-ding-dong," Zephyr snapped. "Sometime ya accents don't leave much room fer proper pronunciations."

Dione giggle-snorted. "I'm sorry," she apologized, holding her hands up. "But holy shit, your accent is hilarious."

"I guess so," Zephyr sighed.

Belinda soon returned, having stolen a horse from the Solitude stables to arrive faster. The frisky palomino mare was a bit…Dancy. Upon arrival, Belinda dismounted and a soldier led the mare to the stable. Belinda went to the alchemy lab that Karliah had set up. She was working with Ralof and Dione, the latter not particularly good at alchemy, but at least she had some of her mother's skill.

"Did you get what you needed?" Karliah asked. "Lucien has been good about collecting the rats and Dione has focused on getting the Namira's Rot."

"Yeah. I copy-pasted Nathiel's magic for me to use," Belinda answered.

"So, how do you make these saporlings?" Karliah asked.

Belinda grabbed a Namira's Rot and set it on the ground. She tapped Nathiel's magic and made it grow into a monstrous looking thing. Its snake-like tongue whipped out. A gaseous cloud puffed up from the cap. Belinda worked carefully to control it. Karliah, Ralof, and Dione went to work making the vaccine. It took a weak to get a batch of a useable potion ready. A few people tested the potion and sat in a room exposed to the fear spores. After a few hours, they were still fine. Six hours seemed to be the limit. That's when the panic set in. They were removed from the chamber and given clean food and water. So, they had a time limit on the potion.

"Can we take Solitude in six hours?" Belinda asked as she, Ulfric, Galmar, Dione, and the other Stormcloak commanders stood in the war room.

"Solitude is too big and Lucien reported that the remainder of the legion is gathered there," Ulfric asked.

"This could take a full day," Dione muttered. "So, we need to do this in four, six hour shifts, with a different group each time. We can't risk giving the same groups the vaccine within twenty-four hours." She looked at their assets. "We could have Zephyr drop the temperature again, but that's risky to the civilians, who have children and animals among them and Zephyr could freeze himself again. We can have him blow as much of the spores away as possible. Belinda, think our dragon friends would be willing to help out again?"

"Yeah," Belinda answered.

"Do they only answer to you?" Ulfric asked.

"They answer to themselves," Belinda replied, "but will heed they whose Voice is strongest. Odahviing and Zeyiizyol will come."

"Let's just not do what we did to Winterhold," Dione muttered.

"No way in Hell are we going to do that," Belinda assured, looking up. "That was ridiculous and was overpowered. We'd collapse half of Solitude if we tried that here." She chewed on her thumbnail. "The dragons won't be affected by the spores, thankfully…I need a good, clean shot at Nathiel though. This time though, there won't be anything left for his boss to put together."


	19. Chapter 19: The Battle for Solitude

_Solitude, Haafingar Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 4_ _th_ _of Sun's Height, 4E202_

It was the height of summer now. Save for the northernmost corners of Skyrim and the summits of her mountains, the snow was gone. Haafingar Hold was warm and beautiful, wildflowers everywhere. Except, Solitude was a ghost town. The civilians hid in their homes, shaking from fear and sleep deprivation. The children and animals were weak and starting to starve. In the catacombs, the dead had risen and were patrolling the halls. The soldiers were itchy. Legate Rikke rubbed her tired, aching eyes. She looked down, seeing her hands shaking. If she didn't get sleep soon, she would throw her from a rooftop. But if she slept, the nightmares would return. Every time she slept, she dreamt of the war, of the Dominion slaughtering her soldiers, brave men and women who fought to defend a crumbling empire. She was not as blind as the Stormcloaks likely believed. The empire was falling down around them. Cyrodiil had been forced to let go of Hammerfell, Morrowind, Blackmarsh, Valenwood, and Elsweyr, the last two belonging to the Aldmeri Dominion. Then again, Cyrodiil, High Rock, and Skyrim essentially belong to the Aldmeri Dominion now.

 _We'll all belong to the Dominion if something doesn't change soon,_ she thought bitterly. She thought back to when she, Ulfric, and Galmar were friends. Not anymore thanks to the Dominion. They imposed their beliefs on others where it was unwelcomed, that Talos was not a Divine. No one could disprove that belief though. Who knew whether or not Talos was a Divine? However, Rikke believed deep down he was. Talos was a god. She secretly worshipped him behind everyone's backs. _Talos, give me the strength to endure this Hell,_ she silently prayed. It was all that Nathiel bastard's fault. He was doing this!

Belinda didn't really believe in gods though, even after Sovngarde. As a Planeswalker, she knew for a fact gods were one of two things: Powerful spirits given meaning and physical form through worship or Planeswalkers older and more powerful than she was. That didn't mean that the Aldmeri Dominion were right though. They were forcing their will and beliefs on others, and that was _**WRONG**_ in every sense of the word. They stole people from their homes to torture them for information on others and "rehabilitated" them to believe as they did. So, Belinda would fight them here and anywhere else in the empire. Zeyiizyol and Odahviing nodded in agreement with her, though they knew Akatosh had made them. What if he was a Planeswalker though? One who had become one with the world to the point where he was essentially a divine being?

"That makes sense," Dione agreed, looking up at the two dragons. They were seated around a campfire along the road to Solitude.

"What do you think, Belinda?" Zeyiizyol asked.

"Plausible," the Dragonborn answered. "But unless a god wants to plop down from high above or come up from down below, I guess we don't have the answers. I guess that's just how the Divine are." She laid back against her pillow she had propped up against a boulder. It was late and she was tired and didn't want to do too much thinking right.

"When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?" Dione asked.

"When was the last time I had a comfortable bed?" Belinda responded. "Nathiel is making me anxious. I have to finish him…" Her eyelids were heavy.

She slept, awaking to the sounds of battle. She blinked once. Twice. Again. She cleared her vision and looked around. Her campfire was out and smoking and Astral sat beside her, petting Spyro along his spine. Belinda sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her back was stiff and she had a headache. Astral reached over and grabbed a clear, light blue bottle. They passed it to Belinda.

"Potion for the pain and stiffness," they told her. "Karliah said you would need it."

"Karliah is a godsend," Belinda huffed, taking the bottle and pulling the cork out with her teeth. She chugged the contents. "Blegh. That was awful." But the pain was subsiding and she was able to move around. "When did the fighting start?" she asked.

"At midnight after you fell asleep," Astral answered. "It's almost noon."

"Ugh…" Belinda got up. "I guess it'll be my group's turn soon."

"Yes; Karliah is passing out the vaccine now," Astral answered.

Belinda nodded. "Any sign of Nathiel on the battlefield?" she asked.

"Not yet."

"That can be good or bad." Belinda drank from her waterskin and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She got on her armor adjusted the buckles. She made sure all of her crystals were accounted for. Next she grabbed her sword. "Either way, I plan for this to be Nathiel's last day." She got up, sheathing the blade. "Take care of Spyro."

Astral nodded. Belinda jogged off to join the rest of her group. Ulfric was among them, looking at the potion that would make him immune to the spores. He looked up to her, hoping for a distraction from drinking the vaccine.

"You're awake!"

"Yeah. Who's up in the city now?" Belinda asked.

"Dione, Zephyr, and Brynjolf's group," Ulfric asked. "From the sounds of it, the Gate District and Residential have been claimed. It's just Castle Dour and the Blue Palace now."

"That was fast," Belinda muttered. "I guess the city will be ours before the end of the day…" She was bothered.

"Something wrong?" Ulfric asked.

"No one has seen Nathiel," Belinda answered.

"True; but the first group has spoken of his handy work," Ulfric pointed out. "It's awful. Everyone is pale, sickly, and mad. The soldiers were throwing themselves into battle without thought or care. Ours will be the last group to attack. It's us and the Companions."

Belinda looked to the others. Sieghard, Farkas, and Vilkas were talking nearby. Grete was sharpening her sword. Galmar was pacing anxiously. Everyone was nervous. They were heading up into a city covered by a cloud of poison where everyone was sick and insane. Of course everyone was anxious! Karliah came over and handed her a bottle with the vaccine.

"Did you get the potion I left you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Belinda answered. "Thanks. I feel better." She looked up to the city. "Are any of your guild up there?"

"I don't think so," Karliah answered. "But Dione is up there right now…" Her voice was full of worry. "I should be with her, making sure she'll be alright. I didn't get to meet her until last spring." She sat on a tree stump. "I spent twenty-five years wishing I hadn't given her up even though I knew I had to. I've barely spoken a word to the women that adopted her. I don't usually care what people think of me, but them…I'm more afraid of Hilda and Oriana than I ever was of Mercer Frey."

"You did the right thing though," Belinda pointed out. "Dione needed stability and a loving home and Hilda and Oriana wanted a baby. You gave all three of them what they needed. I doubt they'll hate and judge you for giving up Dione. Besides, Enthir delivered on his promise, and she found her way to you. Dione is smart, resourceful, and quick on her feet. Pretty sure she got all of that from you. Hell, when we're travelling together, sometimes she stops to pick up stuff for your alchemy."

Karliah smiled softly. "And she has made good friends."

Then Brynjolf rode up on a legion horse, holding Dione. "Ralof!" he shouted, dismounting with Dione still in his arms. It was feat that required a lot of finesse, leg strength, and a good grip. Dione wasn't moving! Belinda and Karliah stood and ran over in panic. Brynjolf brought Dione to Ralof, who cleared a space for her.

"What happened?" Karliah demanded.

"Nathiel," Brynjolf answered.

Belinda saw the damage. Dione's thieves' guild armor were shredded and her body was covered in gashes. Her head was cracked open and blood streamed from her mouth. Her veins were dark with poison. Nathiel had mauled her. Karliah took some of Dione's blood and went to work finding out what the poison used was. Belinda felt rage boiling her blood. Her round pupils turned into thin, angry slits and she felt anger burning up from her lungs. She uttered something under her breath, the ground trembling slightly. Dione was her friend and she was on Death's doorstep. That was it! Belinda had had enough! She turned and ran to Solitude. She was out for Nathiel's blood, Shouting "Whirlwind Sprint" to move her fast. The gates into the city were wide open and beyond that were bodies, people panicking, fires, smoke, screaming, and the sounds of battle. Visible from beyond the battling soldiers were saporlings made of thorny vines and full of poison. They were tearing through the Stormcloaks, pushing them back.

Belinda drew on the power contained in the carnelian, feeling pyromancy flowing through her. The end of her long braid flamed up, and fire streamed from her eyes and mouth, surrounded her hands and feet. She charged in, leaping over the soldiers and slamming a flaming fist into the first saporlings. She was right up front, and started blasting the plant-fungus monsters with fire. A saporling grabbed her arm, poisonous thorns digging into her skin. Belinda's whole arm lit up, burning up the thorny vine. She Shouted three words of power, the first words that Alduin ever Shouted at her, and fire rained from the sky.

Meanwhile, Rikke's eyes widened in horror as she watched the Thalmor Headquarters at Castle Dour was destroyed. She knew dragons were attacking the city. Nathiel came up to her, almost getting hit by a flaming boulder. He looked very much annoyed with the whole situation. Rikke knew the Dragonborn was after him. Brina had sent a messenger crow informing her of such.

"This is the Dragonborn's doing," Nathiel confirmed. "Her power properly rivals Alduin's now. If she is not dealt with and fast, she will destroy all of Solitude."

 _I don't think she would do this if something wasn't wrong with her though,_ Rikke thought. She was a good judge of character. The Dragonborn was young, and with youth came frustration and stress. Belinda was clearly smart and was prone to sarcasm. She was a destructive force, but this kind of destruction was below her. Her attention was drawn to the sky when she saw the Dragonborn's red dragon get hit by a large boulder and knocked down. Her assault was harming her ally! The Dragonborn wasn't thinking straight at all! She was seeing red!

Odahviing slammed into the Temple of the Eight Divines, drawing Rikke's attention there. She burst into the temple. The priests and priestesses screamed and fled to hiding places. He shook his head. Zeyiizyol landed on the edge of the hole.

"Odahviing! Are you unharmed?" he asked.

"Niid," Odahviing answered. "The Dovahkiin is enraged."

"It was Dione," Zeyiizyol pointed out. "She is dying from poison and sever wounds as a result of the one called Nathiel."

"I thought I was missing someone on the battlefield," Odahviing growled. He jumped and flew through the hole with a mighty flap of his wings.

 _If Belinda kills Nathiel, maybe this will end her rage,_ Rikke thought. She growled also. This was all Nathiel's fault. Everyone in Solitude was sick, starving, paranoid, exhausted, sleep deprived, and hurt. Half the city was already burning when the Stormcloaks came, and everyone was fighting like a maniac! Even Tullius, who had lost hope and was getting desperate, and been taking advice from Nathiel. Dragon's Bridge was destroy! And no one has seen Jarl Elisif in days! What was going on?!

"Soon, we'll have a new ally on the battlefield; she will turn the tide of battle," Nathiel assured Rikke. He smirked. It was an unpleasant sight that made Rikke shiver. Who was this new ally? The answer came when undead burst from below the chapel, led but the ghostly figure of a woman. Nathiel approached and bowed. "It has been too long. My apologies for abandoning you when you needed me the most."

"Oh Nathiel, my favored tutor," said the spirit. "What has been done to you?" she asked.

"Death, dismembered, and put back together," Nathiel answered. "Nasty business, but I suppose making deals with demons has its perks."

The spirit nodded and turned to Rikke. "Is this the vessel?" she asked.

"No. I have a better body in mind for you," Nathiel answered. "She carries your blood, which will make it easier for you to command. I'm sorry to say she is scarred, but she is very powerful and young. She's currently blind with rage. Controlling her may actually be easy."

"Who is this and why are you having her possess the Dragonborn?!" Rikke demanded.

"Jarl Elisif is weak, as is the Stormcloaks and the empire," Nathiel pointed out. "This spirit is Potema. With her controlling the Dragonborn, your precious empire will be strong again. She will take the Dragonborn's body and I will trap her soul in this." He held up Azura's Star, though it was blackened and sinister. "Retrieved it by accident really, and when I was in Winterhold, I met a wizard who fixed it for me. Had a feeling it would be useful."

A soldier ran in. "Legate! The Stormcloaks are at the gate!" he shouted.

"Is the Dragonborn among them?" Nathiel asked.

They hard blast from behind. "That would be a confirmative," the soldier answered meekly.

Rikke moved aside. "After you, Nathiel," she said. _Please, die._ Nathiel smiled and went ahead with Potema and the undead. Rikke grabbed the soldier to stop him from following. "Stay here and live," she ordered him. "Protect the priests and priestesses." The soldier nodded and went to check on everyone in the temple.

Rikke stepped out, seeing the Dragonborn with glowing purple eyes. Her hair was loose and flaming wildly. Her right arm was cut up and swollen, veins dark with poison. Blood drizzled from her mouth. The poison was beginning to kill her. Nathiel smiled. Potema would be able to take control of her body easily and Nathiel would administer the antidote after trapping Belinda's soul in the corrupted Star. Potema looked to Nathiel.

"Don't worry; I have the antidote for you," he assured her. "She's weak. You can control her easily."

"Good." Potema sent her undead minions at the soldier, allowing her a clear shot at Belinda. She hit like a tidal wave, making Belinda scream and drop her sword. Despite her injuries and weakened state, she still fought for control. Rikke looked back. The catacombs under the temple. That was where Potema came from. She had to have something down there that belonged to Potema in life, something that was the Wolf Queen's anchor to the world of the living. With the dead cleared of the catacombs though…Who was guarding Potema's anchor? Rikke took off into the catacombs.

 _Dragonborn, keep fighting; you're Solitude's only hope now,_ she thought bitterly. She knew she was rooting for the enemy, but Nathiel was a monster who brought Potema back! The survivors from Fort Neugrad returned sick from poison and all died. That was Nathiel's doing.

There were no dead to stop her, no rats or larger-than-should-be spiders. The dead had taken care of the skeevers and frostbite spiders. Good. Rikke's lungs hurt from running, age and armor slowing her down. There was nothing to stop her, and all the doors were open. Finally, she reached an ancient throne, in which sat a skull with a circlet of gold and silver with a wolf head and several gems around the top. Potema's skull and crown. Rikke drew her sword, a fine, steel blade blessed by a priest of Arkay. She raised it and impaled the skull, breaking through the circlet. There was a scream and Rikke was sent flying back. She slammed head-first into a wall, a sickening crack deafening her and blood splattering the wall behind her head. She slumped over, her world going dark.

Outside, Potema was ripped out of Belinda's body with a shriek. "NO!" she screamed, her form dissipating. Belinda looked up with tired eyes, body wracked with pain as the fire stopped falling from the sky. She managed to get herself up to her feet, nausea forcing her back down.

Potema's form exploded with a scream. The undead crumpled to dust. The vampires and necromancers tried to flee, but were cut down. Belinda turned to Nathiel, seeing him staring in shock and horror. She grabbed her sword and charged. She ran him through the chest and pinned him to the wall. Nathiel gasped, black blood pouring from his mouth. Their eyes locked, Belinda's angry and fierce.

"This time, there will be nothing left for anyone to put back together," she growled. She grabbed Nathiel's by the neck and channeled fire. Nathiel's screams were inhuman and made soldiers from both sides look in shock and horror. When he was nothing but ashes on the wind, Belinda collapsed, fingertips burnt and hair frayed. Slowly, her eyes closed. Ulfric and Galmar burst into Castle Dour, and found Tullius already gone. He had been dead for almost an hour.

"Where's Rikke?" Galmar asked.

"Rikke!" Ulfric called. They went out and saw two people carrying the wounded off. They had just missed the two that were carrying Belinda off. They checked the Temple of the Divines, and asked the Imperial soldier there where Rikke was.

"She went down into the catacombs," the soldier answered. "She ordered me to protect the priests and priestesses.

"Keep protecting them," Ulfric ordered. He and Galmar went down into the catacombs, searching for an hour before find Rikke. She had managed to come to, and looked up at them.

"Rikke? How bad is it?" Galmar asked, kneeling beside her.

"I-I can't move," she answered. "The one called…Nathiel. He drove everyone mad. I should have stopped him before things got this bad."

Ulfric looked the stain of dry blood on the wall, then back at Rikke. "Why are you down here?" he asked.

"Nathiel summoned Potema, and she was killing the Dragonborn," Rikke answered. "Potema would have killed more people. I couldn't…Let this go further."

Galmar and Ulfric started carrying her. They weren't going to let her die down here. "Don't worry Rikke; you're a hero on both sides, no matter what," Galmar assured her. "You stopped the damned Wolf Queen."

"Yeah…" Rikke's eyes fogged up. She couldn't see anymore.

Odahviing and Zeyiizyol had called on more dragons to put out the fires. Jarl Elisif was retrieved from the Blue Palace and survivors led out of the city. She was mess, shaking and sleep deprived. Karliah gave her medicine to help her sleep. Rikke was set on a cot at the Stormcloak camp. She looked up at the clear blue sky. Ulfric and Galmar stayed with her until she passed. Brynjolf walked over to them as they covered the body.

"There's a problem," Brynjolf told them, making them look up. He led them to the medical tent. Everyone was getting medicine and food, resting on cots. Among the sick and wounded was Belinda. Her fingers had been wrapped in gauze individually and then her whole hands were covered. Her right arm was pale with dark veins covered in stitches and bandages. Gauze was brought to catch the blood streaming from her mouth and now her nose and eyes. Lucien was at her side, ears flat against his head. Sieghard held her left hand carefully so as not to her hands. Vilkas and Farkas watched.

"Is she dying?" Ulfric asked.

"She is," Lucien answered. "The poison has caused internal bleeding. Unlike Dione, Belinda was severely weakened by Potema and burned herself out to kill Nathiel. Karliah administered an antidote, but it would stop the bleeding."

Ulfric nodded.

"But healing magic can," said a tired voice. They turned to a brunette woman with blue-grey eyes and pale skin. She had bags under her eyes and freckles on her cheeks. She wore maroon lip paint and her hair was in a loose, side tail over her right shoulder. She wore a sky blue, high neck dress under a white robe worn empire style with silver hems and a silver sash along with matching boots and gloves. She black earring in a strange symbol, like a bident shape almost, and her black staff matched. Grete looked up at the woman. She looked familiar somehow.

"Who are you?" Galmar asked.

Sieghard caught her scent. She wasn't of this world.

"Eveline," the woman answered. "I have travelled from far, and sensed my aid would be needed here." She moved over to Belinda and knelt beside her. Lucien moved aside for her. She moved her hand over one of the cuts on Belinda's arm and sent healing magic through it. The color was powdery white, silvery, and sky blue in color, shimmering like dust. She mended the burst veins, which soon took on a normal hue or faded. With the greatest care, she willed as much blood back in as she could. She mended a few rib bones and worked out the poison. Some color returned to Belinda's pasty skin, but she was well away from survival.

Astral came then, and gave some of their life force to Belinda. "Please, dear," they begged. "You gave me life. Don't lose yours…"

After Eveline did everything she could for Belinda, she went among the people and tended to them. Lucien moved with her, hoping to restore peoples' minds. Hours passed as everyone awaited news on the Dragonborn's health. Dragons gathered from across Skyrim to see if she would pull through. The waiting was agony. Dione awoke the following more, groggy and hurting. Her mother gave her medicine for the pain. She then saw Belinda out cold. Eveline had curled up in a corner and was sound asleep. Sieghard, Vilkas, and Farkas tiredly watched over Belinda for signs of improvement or waking. Dione sent them to bed and watched Belinda for them…


	20. Chapter 20: Recovery

_Solitude, Haafingar Hold  
Skyrim, Nirn  
The 8_ _th_ _of Sun's Height, 4E202_

Belinda groaned. She managed to open her eyes. Her right hand twitched, sending pain up her arm and making her bolt upright with a cry of pain. Beside her, Vilkas jumped awake. He saw Belinda awake and looking undignified, clutching her right arm as it shook. The pain was horrible and it felt like her nerves were on fire! She cursed under her breath in pain as it shocked her system, making her shake violently and break out with a fever while her insides felt heavy and like ice. She laid back down under the covers, shaking. Vilkas went and got blankets and furs to cover her with and warm her up.

"Thank you," she whimpered through chattering teeth.

"Of course; the healer said your right arm will take more time to heal than the rest of your body," Vilkas responded. He went to the table against the wall where a basins of warm water and a platter of food waited. He soaked a rag and brought it over to clean up Belinda's face. He was gentle and careful not to cause any pain. Next, he brought her a glass of water and some food, helping her sit up to do so.

"My hair feels like straw," Belinda muttered, taking a bit of venison as Vilkas brought the fork to her lips.

"Well, it was on fire," Vilkas pointed out. "How…Did that work exactly?" he asked.

"Pyromancers are weird like that," Belinda answered. "Their bodies, and this extends to their hair, are immune to almost extreme temperatures. Hair will burn up if the heat gets too high of course. They have a naturally higher body temperature than non-pyromancers, just as werewolves do. Yeah, Lycanthropes and pyromancers have a lot of similar traits. With the power of a pyromancer, my body and hair was safe for the most part. One negative of pyromancy that I forgot is that it's bad for your hair and causes heat damage. Looks like I have to find stuff to moisturize my hair." She gave a small laugh, flopping back against the plush feather pillows. "Where the Hell are we anyway?" she asked.

"The Blue Palace in Solitude," Vilkas answered. "Tullius ended his own life and the city has been deemed safe to return. Jarl Elisif has sworn loyalty to Ulfric and they're working together to help the city rebuild and the people return to their lives. Eveline was been a major help in people getting healthy again."

"Eveline?" Belinda raised a brow. "Brown hair and bluish-greyish eyes?"

"How did you know?" Vilkas asked, looking to her, his own brow raised.

"Oh, we met a few years ago," Belinda answered. "Surprised she let you, Farkas, or Sieghard near me. She was almost killed by a werewolf about half a year before we met."

"She was rather tense around us," Vilkas pointed out. "Now I can understand why. How did she even know we're werewolves?"

"Just something she can tell," Belinda answered, though her answer implied more than she was telling. "Good thing she's here though. She's a very skilled healer." _I might have lost an arm if she hadn't shown up…_

Speaking of healers, Eveline knocked before she entered the room. "Hello Belinda," she greeted, and gave a brief nod to Vilkas. She still didn't like being so near to werewolves. She went over and checked Belinda's vitals and removed the bandages to change them. She sent magic into the younger woman to ease the pain and calm her.

Belinda was afraid to look at her arm. She swallowed hard and looked. She wished she hadn't. Her skin was pasty in some places, but there were ugly red welts, fresh scars, cuts stitched together, and second degree burns on her fingertips. Her right hand and lower arm were an ugly mess, and she was thankful she was left-handed instead of right-handed. She looked away as Eveline tended to the wounds. She cleaned them with warm water, healed more of the damage, and removed stitches on the cuts that healed. Belinda looked back over, and it looked better, but still ugly, raw, and painful. Out of context, it would look like self-mutilation. Eveline applied salve to help with the pain and the itching before covering her fingers, hand, and arm again.

"How's Dione?" Belinda asked, realizing she hadn't asked sooner.

"Despite her injuries, she's already up and about," Eveline answered. "Her mother and your friend Ralof saved her. She has a few fractures and plenty of cuts, but is ultimately fine. You on the other hand will be bed-ridden for a while."

"Joy," Belinda groaned. She turned back to Eveline. Little over a year ago, she looked tired and weary, but now it was worse. The lines around her eyes had deepened and her skin was beginning to turn pasty. Her eyes were darker and more grey than blue. Her hair was dull and dry. The curse she suffered from was starting to really take its toll on her.

"What?" Eveline asked softly.

"Has it gotten worse?" Belinda questioned, looking at the other Planeswalker.

"Yes," Eveline sighed, eyes shutting.

"Go rest then," Belinda told her. "I know you. You've done a lot for the people. So go get some sleep already."

Eveline, eyes still closed, smiled softly and nodded. "Very well." She forced her eyes back open and leaned heavily on her staff before leaving. Her movements were stiff, like she was far older than what she was. She had been draining herself extensively to help the people of Solitude.

"What's wrong with her?" Vilkas asked. "She always looks like she's tired and in pain."

"She's cursed," Belinda answered solemnly, now looking down at her bandaged arm. "She has a twin brother. They were both born healers, but her brother followed a darker path and studied curses. Of course, most who study the dark arts come out worse people for it. I can think of a necromancer I want to send through a wall."

Vilkas blinked at her.

"Yeah, I know some weirdos," Belinda pointed out.

The door opened again and Lucien padded in. He hopped on the bed and looked at Belinda. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like shit, but I thought that would be obvious," Belinda answered.

Vilkas snorted and chuckled.

"Lady I am-," Lucien began, but Belinda cut him quickly without skipping a beat.

"So cute and fluffy."

"Damn skippy I'm cute and fluffy," Lucien huffed, raising his head arrogantly.

Belinda laughed, but soon fell silent. "I had hoped to talk to others, but I've already worn myself out," she yawned. She laid back. Lucien laid beside her and let her snuggle him. She draped her right arm carefully over him. She fell asleep like that.

A few hours passed and Belinda awoke to Dione reading a book beside her. She turned over to her friend and the thief looked him. A smile graced her lavender lips.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Yeeaaahhh," Belinda answered through a yawn. "Still feel like bricks were dropped on me though."

"You and me both," Dione pointed out. "Though in my case, I was thrown into a wall." She made a face where her lips were a thin line and looked like a cross between neutral and confused. "I was cut up, full of poison, made a crater in a wall, had several broken bones, and I'm still alive. Does being a Planeswalker just make us harder to kill or something?" she asked.

"Yes," Belinda and Lucien answered in union.

"A century ago, we were near-impossible to kill," Lucien pointed out, stretching. He rolled onto his back, still stretching and clawing the air.

"But we're still tough fuckers to kill," Belinda chuckled. She reached over and rubbed Lucien's belly, but he quickly trapped her hand with a glare.

"What have we learned today?" he asked.

"That if you scratch or bite me your ass is sleeping outside on the coldass cobblestone," Belinda answered.

Lucien released her and rolled onto his belly. "You may scratch behind my ears, wench," he told her.

Belinda gave a smug grin and did so until Lucien purred. Dione giggled. Karliah came in with food and water for them. Lucien ate the seasoned salmon, purring loudly while Dione helped Belinda eat her soup.

"How's your arm?" Karliah asked.

"A little tingly, some pain," Belinda answered, holding the bowl in her damaged hand. The warmth that seeped through the bowl and bandages actually felt nice and eased the pain. "I'm proud of my scars, but these I hate. They look awful out of context." She sighed. "I think after it's all healed up I'll get this arm tattooed." She thought about it. "Something with dragons perhaps," she decided.

"That would suit you," Lucien pointed out.

Belinda slept again after dinner…

* * *

 _The 9_ _th_ _of Sun's Height_

Belinda awoke to a lack of fur. Lucien had vacated the bed and was asleep on a pile of pillows beside the bed. It was still dark out, but there was color in the sky. _Foredawn,_ she thought sleepily. She turned to see if Dione was still in the room. She had clearly left. Now Sieghard was beside her, and he had stirred upon her movement. He blinked his silver eyes, which glowed in the dim light of foredawn and a dying, flickering candle. Wuuthrad leaned against the nightstand within reach of the Nord werewolf.

"Morning," she whispered to him.

"Morning," he greeted with a groan. He winced, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sat up straight. He looked down to her. "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

"Most comfortable I've been in weeks," Belinda answered, though she was trying to adjust herself.

"Here, let me help," he offered, standing and picking her up off the bed.

He moved her to a chair and stripped the bed. Belinda took a deep breath and tried to push herself to her feet with her good hand. Her legs weren't cooperating. She focused on trying to move her legs while Sieghard work. He flipped the mattress and put on fresh bedding just as Belinda managed to get her feet working. He went to a wardrobe and got out fresh sheets. She started bending her right leg. He made the bed and she was onto her hip. He bagged the pillows and fluffed them while she worked her left leg. He put on the covers and turned them down just as she got up to her feet. He turned to the chair to get her and saw her stumbling to the window.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"The air is stuffy and stale," Belinda answered, taking it one step at a time. "Besides, I need some exercise." She went to the window and unbolted it. She opened it, letting in crisp, cool air. The effort wore her out and she rested her left arm and head on the windowsill. "That took way too much energy…" she grumbled.

Sieghard sighed and went to her. "C'mon kiddo. Let's get you back to bed." He carefully lifted her up and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Can you took the end of the covers so it's folded around my feet?" Belinda asked, starting to feel drowsy.

"Sure," Sieghard answered. He laid her down and tucked her in.

"You're gonna be a great dad," Belinda sighed, passing out.

When she woke next, it was late morning and it was damned sunlight that woke her. She looked to her left to see Farkas sleeping beside her. She almost laughed at his goofy snoring. She covered her mouth and bit her lower lip, but it was pointless as she started giggling. Farkas snorted, waking and looking around wildly. His long hair swung around his face before he finally settled his sight on Belinda.

"Oh, just you giggling," he sighed. He leaned back in the chair before it sank in Belinda had been giggling. About…something. "Why were you giggling?" he asked.

"You snore," Belinda answered.

"Oh hehe-haha," Farkas grumbled. "You're as bad as my brother."

"Hey, I laugh at everyone who snores funny, so don't take it personally," Belinda pointed out. "I have heard some fuckish snores before." She mimicked one that had a loud inhale, and made weird honking sound on exhaling.

"What the…What was that?" Farkas asked.

"Some lady that I saw asleep once," Belinda answered. "So as you can imagine, I started laughing!" She mimicked the weird honking again, making Farkas quietly chuckle and shake his head.

"You're weird," he commented.

"Yeah, and? What's your pointed, you great big tree?"

"Oh, I'm a tree now?"

"I would say six-foot-eight is pretty tree-like."

"Well you're short."

"Icebrain."

"Loudmouth."

Belinda blew a raspberry.

"Real mature, you two," Vilkas groaned, walking in with Eveline.

"He/She started it," Belinda and Farkas snapped, pointing to each other.

Vilkas rolled his eyes as Eveline went to work changing the bandages and speeding up the healing process. A few more scars. Then she left to rest again. Astral came in, Spyro perched on their shoulder. They shooed the twins, decided it was their turned to chat with Belinda. They gracefully sat on the chair, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Spyro glided over to Belinda's lap and sat there before chirping to her.

"When do you suppose he will start speaking?" Astral asked, looking to the young dragon.

"Ask an older dragon," Belinda answered. She pet Spyro, who curled up like a cat. She looked to Astral. They looked whole and well. "Are you okay?" she asked them.

"I am fine," they answered.

"You gave me some of your life force," Belinda pointed out. "I can feel it still."

"I will live quite long still," Astral assured. "Though I wonder if it is worth it for the pain I caused, the lives I stole. I've seen friends and family back home, regret and guilt for wronging people, the wish that they had done something differently, the lives the assassin I killed took…"

Belinda reached out and took Astral's hand. She gave them a reassuring smile. "It will all be worth it in the end," she promised. "You were given life, remember. So Astral: What are you going to do about this life?"

Astral thought about it for several moments before answering. "I'm going slay villains and give their lives to those who need it."

Belinda smiled. "Then you'll need to learn how to sneak around and defend yourself when things go wrong," she pointed out. "You should talk to Dione, Brynjolf, or Karliah. They're good at those things."

Astral felt like they were smiling. "Thank you. I shan't waste a second of my life. I'm going to change the world." They stood and left in a hurry, leaving Belinda smiling.

"Good luck, Astral," she sighed.

Grete walked in, looking confused. "Astral seems excited," she commented before sitting.

"Well, they have a purpose now," Belinda pointed out. "They're going to beat the bad guys and heal the sick, and maybe build enough wealth in beating up villains to start proper facilities for the sick and injured. The temples are nice and all, but they're places of worship and they're not all about caring for people." She smiled. "I think Astral is going to change the world."

"I hope so," Grete sighed.

"Did you find your mother?" Belinda asked.

"Yeah," Grete answered. "She was in Northwatch Keep along with a bunch of people." She looked down. "She's…jittery. I think they may have broken her or something. I took her to the temple and prayed to Stendarr for some guidance. The Stendarr priest promised to look after her until I can get a home set up for her." She rubbed her eyes. "I don't know what to do…"

"You'll have to be patient with her," Belinda pointed out. "Shit sucks and it's not going to be an easy ride. You saved your mom. It may have taken you a bazillion years, but she's free now and you're here for her. All you can do is help her adjust to life. She raised you, and now you're the one who has to raise her. It's a weird emotional thing that no one is ever prepared for." She got up and started walking around, trying to work her leg muscles. She sat on the floor and stretched.

"Thanks," Grete sighed. "Belinda, where's your mother?"

Belinda was silent. "Far away from here," she answered after a moment. She couldn't tell Grete about Planeswalkers and other planes.

"Got an exact location?"

Belinda groaned and looked at Grete. "You're just gonna have to accept my answer because the reality is just flat out weird," she pointed out. "She's alive, but we haven't spoken in a while."

"Okay, I won't push it," Grete said. "Some part of me still can't believe a parent would let a kid travel around."

"I'm almost 18," Belinda defended. "Anyway, I-."

There was a knocked and Ulfric entered.

"We'll chat later, okay?" Belinda said to Grete, who nodded and left the room. Belinda got to her feet and looked to Ulfric. She realized she must have looked awful to him. She looked to the mirror and realized her assumption was correct. She grumbled something and went to the basin to wash her face, only to soak the bandages on her hand. "Ah, fuck!" she cursed, glaring at her hand. She felt so undignified. "Can you come back later when I look less like I got run over by a carriage?" she asked Ulfric.

"Belinda, no one cares if you look like the worst side of Oblivion," he pointed out. He turned to the Stormcloak guarding the door. "Would you fetch Miss Eveline or a healer for fresh bandages?" The guard nodded and hurried off. Ulfric went over and removed the now soaked bandages from Belinda's arm. It was still pale with ugly red welts, scar tissue, and stitches. "Your arm needs air anyway."

Belinda flexed her fingers and hand. She winced as the muscles stirred and caused pain near some of the wounds. She then cleaned her face and carefully cleaned her arm before brushing her hair. She really didn't feel like braiding it, so she took a ponytail holder from her belt pouch and put her hair up into a ponytail, bangs still over her forehead. She quickly sniffed her arm cringed. UGH! How could Sieghard and the twins stand to have been in her presence when she smelt like a dog?! Well, they were dogs too in a technical sense.

"Is there a bathing chamber here? I really want to take a bath right now," Belinda asked, getting a nod in response. She went to her pack to get fresh clothes and soap.

The Blue Palace had a beautiful bathing chamber. The water was warm and smelt of lavender. She washed up good, though it hurt to use her right fingers. They still hurt. After dirtying up one tub, she drained it refilled it with the lavender oils. She relaxed in the tub. She tried to remember the last time she had gotten the chance to just lie back, relax, and enjoy a bath and the feeling of being clean…

The door opened and someone entered, making Belinda jumped in alarm and cover herself. Water sloshed out of the tub and onto the floor. She then forced herself to relax. It was Jarl Elisif.

"Oh, I'm sorry Dragonborn," she quickly apologized, looking down.

"No, it's fine," Belinda assured. "I'm just jumpy."

Elisif nodded and went to an already filled and scented tub. She was beautiful and flawless with light freckles on her shoulders and along her cheekbones and Belinda felt her own cheeks heat up. She looked away and sunk into the water a little. Elisif relaxed in her tub, and noticed Belinda was not visible.

"Um, Dragonborn?" she called nervously.

Belinda poked her head up. "Yeah?" she responded.

"Sorry, I didn't see your head and got a little worried," Elisif apologized.

"Oh. My apologies. I didn't mean to worry you," Belinda said. "So, how's the city recovering?" she asked.

"Thanks to you and Legate Rikke, Solitude is recovering," Elisif answered. "If Rikke hadn't destroyed Potema's remains and you hadn't killed Nathiel…"

"It shouldn't have gotten that bad," Belinda sighed. "At least he's not coming back again. May he find peace in death that he couldn't find in life." She looked up at the ceiling.

Elisif nodded. "Agreed." It kind of felt nice to talk to someone and not have the conversation be focused on her late husband or her inability to rule. Of course, she was scared. Without Tullius or Rikke around…

"You okay?" Belinda asked.

"Nervous," Elisif answered.

"Can't blame you. Your life is about to get hard. I've been saying that to a lot of people today," Belinda grumbled. "I guess it's true though. Skyrim is in for some rough times now that the war is over, but at least the smithing and lumber trades will be in full blast to help rebuild Solitude and Whiterun while the stone carvers will be focused on Dragon's Bridge. Some people are going to have it good. Others have rough times ahead of them. Better relax while we can. I think things will be getting busy again before too long."

Elisif nodded. "I couldn't agree more…"

* * *

 _The 11_ _th_ _of Sun's Height_

Belinda's arm was fully healed, the scars still ugly. She sat in a chair looking at them while the tattoo artist drew three dragons, making sure to incorporate the scars. He wasn't using the needles and ink yet, just a thin brush to lay down the linework. Sieghard sat with her, ready to let him squeeze his hand. Lucien and planted the images of Alduin, Zeyiizyol, and Odahviing in the artist's mind, showing him what Belinda wanted, and she wanted the three dragons on her arm. Soon, the artist finished the drawing of Zeyiizyol, who was the last dragon to be drawn. Belinda looked at the dragons on her arm. This was going to require a lot of precision, lines, and pain, but it would be worth it in the end so she would not be forced to look at the hideous scars. Then she paled drastically and leaned in close to Sieghard.

"What kind of tools do they use for this?" she asked him.

"I'm guessing nothing like what your home uses," he answered.

"Crap…"

Then she felt a jab of needles and yelped in pain…

* * *

 _Meanwhile…_

I'm traveling at impossible speeds, blinking out of existence. I don't know my next destination, but I know it is as important as every other place we've been to so far. However, something tells me in my heart this one is more important than any other yet. I'm eager to arrive, but I don't know why. The Dragon Spirit leans their head down close to my ear.

"Why the excitement?" they ask, the voice a song.

"I do not know," I answer. "It's important though. I must get there." I look to them. "What is the next world?" I think in my heart, I already know the answer, but I want to know. I need to know.

"Nirn," they tell me.

The excitement grows in strength. "Then my time has come," I tell them. "Time to part ways."

"It is still another month and a half before we reach our destination," they tell me, "but yes. There, your contract ends. You'll be free to travel again as you wish."

"Good. I am ready to see her again, as well." I look ahead. Despite the blinding speed in which we move, I can still see our destination, and my freedom at last. And also at last…

I will see her face.


End file.
